


Long Live the Pumpkin King

by ultimatebara



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Blood and Torture, Body Horror, Emotional Manipulation, Handsome Rhys, M/M, Necrophilia????, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Past Rape/Non-con, the nightmare before christmas au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultimatebara/pseuds/ultimatebara
Summary: Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King, is tired of doing the same old thing every year. By chance, he stumbles into a new town that will bring back the fire he thought had extinguished inside himself. With the help of his favourite ghost, Timothy, he intends to find the joy he thought he had lost through the years.But he didn't think he would have to face some old demons again.





	1. Skeleton Jack Might Catch You in the Back

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic in English and the first I'm posting here in AO3! I had the idea for an AU because of a fanart I saw on inkfall's instagram! Go check it out, you'll know when you get there! I saw that fanart, thought about Sally!Rhys and my friend Finn (timothysdrake on twitter) helped me to develop this AU and everything went down hill from there LMAO  
> This work is a TNBC AU, but is not as innocent as the movie so if you're sensitive to torture, rape mention and body horror/body modification, please be careful while reading it. And, if possible, try to leave some comments so I can know what you guys think about it! ❤
> 
> Hope you guys like it as much as I'm liking to write it!  
> ❤

The wind blew some leaves through the air as it whistled and made the wooden sign crack above the scarecrow’s head. The pumpkin head smiling widely with crooked teeth and hollow eyes seemed to be having fun as its body turned with the wind force, pointing to the far end of the darkness. The sign welcoming everyone who got the guts to get near _Halloween Town._

The road lead through the cemetery, where shadows danced on the tombs and sang horrifying phrases. A two-headed person could be seen leaning against one of those, big knives glistening against the moonlight, a wolf howled and small laughs could be heard cutting the cold air. Down the road, past the big rusty gate, the town stood in all its glory.

Tall dark buildings stood above the ground with small yellow-ish windows, showing how far they were above the ground. The wind moved as if were being guided by some sort of force, controlled by _something –_ maybe the white fog that seemed to laugh and tried to reach every being beneath it. On the spikes of the steel fence delimiting the road, there were the pumpkins that changed expressions as you passed near them. Smiles, surprise, _fear_. Each one showed some feeling, but no feeling at all, as they guided you to the town gate.

Smashed glass littered the pavement as the fog follows whoever walks on the streets that night. The dark engulfing the yellow-ish lights, making them glow against the pitch black of the night, making everything look _so cold._

Then, movement.

The sound of a door opening in the distance, making you wonder “Should I enter? Stay at home, where is safe?”. And then, you remember, that nowhere is safe in that night. While some people may think they are safe under their blankets, covering their feet from monsters under the bed, there’s already a hand creeping up their leg. Warm ghost fingers, brushing each leg hair till they reach your thigh, hipbone and belly. Scratching collarbone skin until you wake up in a rush to red glowing eyes and snakes around your throat, spiders in your hair and a big toothy smile looming above your face.

Bloodthirsty smiles crippling near your neck from behind joined by wings ruffling above your head. Running to the city square is worthless, being that a voice echoes through each street, each alleyway, reaching your ears and making they buzz with the image of a double smile. Double faces, spinning eyes and open mouths that will swallow you through and through, raising your arms and nape hairs.

Cats – black ones with big bright yellow eyes – jumping over trash cans, making rats screech and run between your ankles. Tears want to fall, to roll over your cheeks and touch the ground as you reach for the wheel, looking for somewhere to support your weight as you feel you’re going to fall. The white moonlight makes your blood run cold as shrill voices reach your tympanums and you feel something loom behind you. Looking over your shoulder, rotten corpses look back at you. Bulging eyes and thick tongues that don’t fit inside their mouths directed at you as you can be sure that the tree that support those hanging bodies is coming closer. You can see the face carved on the wood, its mouth opening to swallow you whole.

You run to the darkness, away from the rotten smell, bright lights and shrill sounds. You run, but you don’t get anywhere, being pulled by a different darkness that circles your fragile body. Eating you alive, making a no-face clown appear behind your eyelids, smoke enveloping his fat body and deep growling voice.

“ _I am the ‘who’ when you call ‘Who’s there?’_ ”

It’s the sentence that sticks to your brain, bruised against grey matter and damaging blood vessels, pulsing within a headache. Brown hair joined by a cute smile and glowing eyes, so warm and welcoming that the needle between the owner’s hand doesn’t catch your attention and neither does the pain and blood from sewed lips. He didn’t sew your eyes shut because you need to see the next surprise.

In the back of your head, there’s a deep baritone that promises to fill you to the brim with fright, making you feel insects crawling under your skin, weighing down your tongue, wanting to get out. Tears roll over your cheeks and you can see a wooden horse coming in your direction, rode by a tall and wide figure holding a torch.

“ _Our man Jack is king of the pumpkin patch! Everyone hail to the Pumpkin King now!”_ and you can see green and blue glistening as they look over your way. Every small hair on your body stands and someone – something(s) – hold your arms and you try to free yourself, thrashing legs and torso, feeling the insects’ feet on the roof of your mouth. The fire cracks are the only sound you hear as they tie you up to wooden pole above firewood.

The citizens of this town circle your demise and you can’t scream nor pray. Yellow, rotten, bulgy and creepy eyes lock over your body as if you’re the most beautiful thing they have ever seen and your chest tightens. Hands and legs tightly bound, fingers starting to go numb and the smell of gasoline fills your lungs as the liquid pours over the body in the pyre.

And the whine and muffled cries fill every citizen’s ears and they smile as their King stands tall on the wooden horse. Arms raised and opened as his booming voice frightens and warms everyone.

“In this town we call home, everyone hail to the Pumpkin Song!” he laughs and lets go of the torch, watching as the fire engulfs the body and burns it with warm colours and black smoke. The silence is filled only with multiple muffled cries of sewed mouths and burning bodies around the square, illuminating the streets and the citizen’s faces. The warm proud smiles making everything seem even more bizarre as the Pumpkin King gets off the horse and smiles widely at his people.

“Happy Halloween!” his eyes scan the crowd that, only now, start to celebrate and cheer the spectacular event. Claps echoed over the crowd, making the King puff his chest as he smiles proudly to the horrible and terrifying beings in front of him. In the middle of the content people, there are mismatched eyes following each and every movement of the King, admiring his form and beauty.

Blue and brown watching with adoration as he is congratulated by everyone, being circled by decaying witches with big noses and dry hair, vampires showing pointed crooked canines and the Meriff trying to get to him with a fake smile. He wants to go there and throw himself at the King as the witches do, pat him on the shoulder like the Meriff or just stand less than ten feet away from him. But suddenly, a bony hand grabs his arm and pulls him over with so much force that he almost falls to his knees.

“The deadly nightshade you gave me wore off, Rhys.” A scowl plastered on the old face of the scientist made Rhys tremble and reach for his other hand, trying to free himself.

“Let me go!” he tried to scratch the other, but his nails weren’t long enough to make any significant damage over those long fingers. He winced and the old man pulled him tightly, squeezing cold flesh.

“You’re not ready for so much excitement.” He moved the other hand and reached for the wheelchair joystick, making the wheels turn in the other direction.

“I am! I already told you that! Let go, Tassiter!” he tried again, but didn’t succeed. How did that thin arm hold that much strength? Or did Rhys’ body parts have no strength at all?

“You’re coming with me!” he said through greeted teeth and moved the joystick forward, making the wheels start to roll in that direction. Rhys planted his feet on the ground, taking advantage of the crooked pavement, and looked at his arm being pulled.

“No, I’m not!” with his free hand, he reached to the thick thread holding his upper forearm with the rest of the arm and pulled it, falling on his back. The sound of Tassiter’s wheelchair falling against the cement was heard as Rhys got up and ran, holding the end of the open “wound”, trying to keep the filling in there. As he ran, he could hear the faint sounds of the rest of his arm hitting Tassiter’s literally thick skull as he screamed for him to come back.

A few feet away from them, Jack walked backwards from the crowd. Horrendous beings trying to get close to him, extending arms to reach the object of their adoration.

“Jack, you made flesh burn and skin crawl…” a swamp monster said while clutching its hands over its chest, exhibiting yellow teeth between purple lips.

“Thank you.” He smiled friendly and almost tripped over a pavement crack he didn’t see.

“You made open wounds bleed and pus flow!” a small witch almost hugged his waist, but he dodged, raising his hands to create a safe space between him and the adoring crowd.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you _so much!”_ he felt his button up tight against his throat, trying to remember the layout of the street behind him so he could make a quick run to escape from his citizens. He didn’t need to go as far as that as the Meriff’s voice caught everyone attention.

“Wait! We need to give out the prizes!” he chuckled against the megaphone as the crowd turned their backs to Jack and started to walk towards the two-faced being. Jack took that opportunity and walked fast towards the street corner, turning it and slamming his back against the wall. He looked around and let a deep breath out, head falling forward as his eyes closed and a baby blue steam got out of his mouth.

“I hate when you ask me to do this.” The steam took the form of a person with crossed arms and annoyed expression “It’s weird being inside you!” he exclaimed.

“Hn…?” mismatched eyes blinked groggily and a very visible shudder went through the body “O-oh! It’s weird for me too, pumpkin, but needed to be do-o-one. I wasn’t feeling quite chatty today.” He shuddered again and walked off, down the street, with the ghost floating beside him.

“What?! _You’re_ not feeling chatty?!” the ghost got in front of Jack and raised his eyebrows, making Jack stop and then remember that he could walk into the other and nothing would happen “Are you the real Jack?! You’re chatty all the time! Even in your sleep! I have ghost dark circles because you don’t shut up in your sleep!” he rambled and Jack gritted his teeth.

“Timothy! Shut up!” he turned and looked at the ghost “If you weren’t dead I would kill you right now!” he raised his hands in a strangling motion, reaching for the ghost’s neck and seeing his fingers pass through the baby blue silhouette “God, I hate you!”

“Too bad, Jackie.” Timothy rolled his eyes.

“Don’t call me that!” he continued to walk, passing by three musicians as they watched him snarl at the identical ghost as they went down the street towards the cemetery. The saxophonist looked at his musician friend that played the cello.

“Did the King have a twin or something?” they stopped playing and the one with the accordion crouched, reaching for their tip hat and started to count the coins.

“No, no. That,” he pointed with the cello staff in the ghost’s direction, “is what the King was supposed to be in, let’s say, his alive form. They do seem kinda alike.” He passed his hand through the bristles on his bald head, scratching it.

“But no one truly knows why he sticks to the King. People say they were always together, but no one is sure ‘bout it.” the accordionist got up and long thin as thread things were holding the tip hat. The three musicians kept watching as the two silhouettes disappeared through the town gate.

 

 

Rhys was sitting against a tombstone, hugging his legs against his chest and thinking about nothing, his mind blank as the simple thought of thinking about something would make him feel bad. If he thought about his current situation – the _doll_ and prisoner of a mad scientist – he would want to cry and get frustrated, because he did not have lacrimal ducts to help the pain and sadness fade through tears. If he started to fill his mind with _what if_ s, dreams and hopes, he would want to cry and get frustrated again because what dreams and hopes were there for a mad scientist’s doll after all? He was the result of a sick wish and creepy intentions of a lonely old man that had the resources to bring him to life with some dead body parts patched together.

Sometimes he thought about the origins of each body part and made stories for each of them just to pass the time. His left arm belonged to a human that died frozen in a lake because of its blueish colour, even if more than half of it were stripped fabric sewed to flesh. His right arm was not human for Tassiter couldn’t find one at his disposal so he made one out of patches of worn out yellow leather, filled with cotton and leaves.

His legs were from the same body as they both had the same length – even if his right one looked like his left arm, patched with striped fabric - and Rhys loved them. Long and thin, making him stand taller than the others – when he met other people – even if they made him quite clumsy. The proportion was a little off, but his clothes hid that well. Scars and seams littered his body, making him quite shy about his appearance. Seams going over each side of his mouth, plastering an eternal look alike smile on his features and one going over his left eye up into his temple and disappearing within his hair.

Tassiter never answered when Rhys asked about those seams on his face, so he stopped asking.

Rhys looked to his forearm and touched the yellow fabric, pushing the filling in again and sighed, filling his blank mind with scenes of him being locked again, because of his behaving. He looked to the dark sky and yelped as the screech of the steel gate echoed through the place. He crawled to behind the tombstone and tried to make himself as small as possible, but curiosity kept his eyes above the stone as he watched a silhouette enter the cemetery.

Jack walked with his hand on his chin and eyes to the sky. The striped suit hugging his form as the bat-like bow tie circled his throat and seemed to want to fly as the man walked down the dirty path between the tombs. Timothy close behind, floating on his back and hands on his chest. They passed the stone Rhys was hiding and the brunette could marvel at the wide back of his King.

He wanted to go to him and touch those wide shoulders, drag his cold hands over fabric to feel the bumps of each rib and vertebrae under his fingers. Engrave in his borrowed brain what it felt to be so close to the Pumpkin King and his mightiness. To have such a powerful and meaningful gaze only on him.

He didn’t have pumping blood inside of him, but he was sure that something tightened inside him when he looked at the King. Rhys would swear that he could feel what having a beating heart was like when he looked at Jack.

The King walked some more and stopped in front of a big tombstone, reading the name Timothy Lawrence out loud and pointing at the photo on it.

“You were so cute, TimTams. Look at those freckles.” He teased and leaned forward, squinting. His eyesight wasn’t the same as before the incident with the Oogie Boogie and his left eye was starting to get blind, but he wouldn’t tell a single soul about it. Not even Timothy’s soul.

Timothy rolled his eyes and sat on top of the tomb, looking at Jack with a worried expression. It has been some time since he knew something was up with the King. Sure, he would go to the meetings and help with the preparations for the big party, but Timothy saw mismatched eyes wander over the crowd, looking at nothing in particular, as if nothing got his attention.

At home, it was worse. Jack would stay in bed, covered up to his neck and would not talk. That was something that honestly made Timothy worry about the other. Jack would always fill the silence with his loud laugh and sassy remarks. He would ask Timothy to moan around the house like a real ghost should do and cackle as he would sat on the electric chair and make Tim almost die again of a heart attack.

In addition, that morning before the Big Event, Jack asked Timothy to take control over his body so he would do the talking during all of its duration. The ghost reputed at first, but accepted as he noticed how the other was not feeling well enough with whatever was going through his head.

Jack leaned back and looked at Timothy, smiling as he patted his own thighs, starting to speak as if the ghost was a dog.

“What is it, boy? What is it? Do you want a hug? That’s why you’re pouty?” he teased and put his thick bony fingers on his hips. Timothy rolled his eyes and wished he could kick the other – and get that hug.

“I’m just looking at you.” He saw how Jack’s painted lips parted in a devilish smirk and he continued, “I mean, I’m worried about you, Jack. You’re acting weird since the beginning of the preparations. You don’t seem… Happy about Halloween.” Timothy tilted his head to the side “And you’re _always_ happy over pyrotechnical events.” He moved his eyebrows and Jack rolled his eyes, going down the path again “Jack. Jack, please… Talk to me.” He pleaded.

The King walked to a nearby statue of a little devil and leaned against it, putting a hand over his mouth. His twin ghost was pressing him against a wall, looking at him with those dumb big eyes and faint freckles splattered across his face. Jack breathed a deep sigh and passed his tongue over his painted lips, looking over his shoulder.

“…” he opened his mouth to begin speaking, but nothing came out. He straightened his back and looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever being that would be nearby to listen to him. Not seeing a single thing, he looked forward “I’m bored.” It came in a small voice and he snarled at his own voice.

“… Bored?” Timothy frowned.

“I am the _Pumpkin King_ , Timothy. Everyone knows how great I am at scaring people; at killing, skinning and beheading. My talents are renowned far and wide.” He blinked and rolled his shoulders “I don’t need to try to be the best, because that’s exactly who I am.” He turned and pointed at the ghost “You’ve seen me in action!”

“H-Hm…! Y-yes, I did!” he nodded a few times and blinked a dozen “You make adults shriek with just a wave of your hand!” he gave the other a small smile “And you can make such nice tricks with your body, m-my King!” he licked his lips and nodded enthusiastically, clenching his hands to his chest. Timothy just wanted to see Jack be that bright presence again, “T-the one with the head is my favourite!”

Jack smiled and touched his own neck, looking to the side.

“Well, it is my favourite one too, pumpkin.” There it was! The smile and glow coming back to his King’s face. Timothy extended his arms.

“And your howls! There’s no animal nor man that scream like you can, with such a fury and passion!” he chuckled and shrieked back as Jack jumped in his direction, snarling and trying to bite his face. Timothy clutched his legs near his chest and nodded more, seeing blue and green glow against black sclera and black circles on the mask “Th-that! Yeah!”

Jack laughed and put a hand on his own forehead, brushing back his locks with his bony fingers. His chest puffed with pride as he looked at the ghost and imagined how he would have bitten off the tip of his nose if he were alive. But as soon as the pride came, it ended.

“Besides my talent and awesomeness… Year after year it’s the same old thing.” He turned his back to Timothy and walked two steps, looking at the ground “I thought I wouldn’t ever get tired of hearing screams…” he almost whispered “It has… Become routine to me.” Timothy tilted his head and Jack looked over his own shoulder.

“What are you trying to say, Jack?”

“I want something bigger. Something greater.” He looked forward and a chill went through his bones “I am tired of my crown.” Timothy’s eyes grew wide “I, Jack, the Pumpkin King, am tired of the same old thing.” He started to walk in the direction of the forest and Timothy floated after Jack, getting in front of him and tried to look at coloured irises.

“Wh-what?! No! Jack, you can’t say that!” Timothy wanted to reach for the other, touch his shoulders and hold him in place, shake some sense into him “You’re the King because you’re the best and you love being the King!” the ghost couldn’t understand what was going on inside Jack’s head. He had everything that anyone could ever wish for and far more what anyone could afford. The ghost couldn’t think of a single thing to say to his double.

“The praise always comes, but the emptiness is still here, Timothy.” With those words, he walked through the other, stepping on some pumpkins along the way to the dark forest. Timothy just looked at him, trying to put the pieces together as he went after the other, floating with a frown and worry on his face.

Rhys listened to their entire conversation, feeling his chest tighten with each word that left the King’s mouth. If he could cry, he would be sobbing from how much he related to the meaning behind his words. What was out there for them than the same thing year after year that they looked forward to as if that was something that never happened in their lives? Making every year greater than the year before, making each passing year more complicated and impossible to surpass. What was there for them besides the bored validation?

He looked over the tombstone, opening his mouth to call for the other, but met nothing. He looked around and held his hand to his chest, sighing.

“I know how you feel, Jack.” He glanced to the moon and shook his head, walking to a nearby spot he knew by heart. The plants growing widely over the graves and engulfing the base of each sign with their names. Rhys staggered and kneeled in front of the plants, grabbing handfuls of witch hazel and deadly nightshade.

He stuffed them into his arm and kneaded the flesh, making it not as bulky as before. He couldn’t afford Tassiter knowing he had taken more nightshade with him this time. He had a small pot where he would put his herbs, but the scientist smashed it, claiming he created a servant to follow his wishes and not have his own.

The walk back home was silent as the moonlight guided his path to the big castle near the city centre. He climbed the stairs and entered as silently as he could, feeling his feet too heavy as his steps echoed in the big entrance of the building. He walked to the kitchen, always aware of his surroundings, and kneeled in front of the big cauldron, moving some firewood aside to reach one of the stones under it. He looked around and kept his ears alert to any sound that could indicate that Tassiter was nearby.

Rhys held the heavy stone between his fingers and lifted it, moving it aside. He sat on his feet and started to take off the herbs out of his arm, placing each leaf and twig with care on the hole. As he touched the stone to put it back in place, he heard the indistinguishable sound of the scientist’s wheelchair approaching the kitchen.

He quickly put everything back in place and got up, leaning against the wall as the man entered the kitchen.

“Rhys.” His voice contained as if he was dealing with a child “I see you came back to me.”

The brunette looked away, disgusted by what those words meant.

“I had to.” He raised his eyes and saw Tassiter hold the rest of his arm. He gave a small smile as the yellow hand waved at him.

“For this, I presume.” He put the arm on his lap and Rhys frowned, holding an annoyed breath and nodded, walking away from the wall and stopping nearby the other “Well, if we may.” He raised one slim arm towards the lab and Rhys bit the tip of his tongue, walking to the room that made his skin crawl.

At the lab, he lay down on the metal table that he liked to call birth bed and fixated his eyes on the slimy ceiling. Hugo, Tassiter’s assistant, couldn’t reach that far, so the stones were dark with sludge and crowded with spider-webs. Rhys wouldn’t clean that even if they told him to do it. He was not _made_ for that.

Large belts held his body down as if he would run off again and Tassiter held a thick needle between gloved fingers.

“It’s already the second time you put deadly nightshade in my tea and run off.”

“Third time.” Rhys corrected him and got a hard pinch on his face and the point of the needle near his right eye as the old man grunted.

“You’re mine! You can’t just run off like that! I made you with my own hands! You belong to me.” He started to sew his arm back and Rhys looked away, feeling the thread pass through his skin

“You can make other creations! I’m restless, I can’t help it! I want to go out there and see the world! Not stay inside, being-“ he bit his tongue and took a deep breath “I don’t want to be just a doll. I’m more than that.” His throat felt dry and obstructed.

“You’re nothing more than a doll, Rhys, we’ve talked about this. Soon you’ll see that. It’s just a phase.” He finished sewing and pulled the short sleeve down, patting his shoulder “You know your purpose, why I made you. I’ve told you thousands of times.” He slid a hand over his arm and Rhys tried to control himself enough to refrain from gagging, but failed. Tassiter looked at his face and tightened the belts that held his body down “I bet you just wanted to see that over-compensating King. King of nothing if you ask me!”

Even if Rhys did not have tact, he could still feel pressure, so the tight belts holding him tight against the birth bed made him uncomfortable. He knew something bad was coming.

“That man needs to be stopped! He thinks he can do as he pleases in our town! That everyone will follow him blindly, but I won’t! And _neither will you!_ ” a clear threat that were put in action as soon as Tassiter reached the panel controls. He pressed some buttons and static filled the room, raising Rhys’ hairs and he screwed his eyes shut, listening to the laser pointing at his left temple. Before everything went black, he thought of Jack’s eyes.

 

They walked all night through the woods, Timothy being the only witness to Jack’s laments. His words filling the ghost’s chest with sadness as he spoke of his delusions and frustrations. He almost _sobbed_ about how he didn’t feel happy with all the luxuries he had, with the adoration and devotion.

They stopped once or twice for Jack to lean against a tree and place his forehead on its old trunk, digging nails on dry bark, pulling it apart to ease his frustrations. Some words echoed in Timothy’s head over and over as he followed his King deeper into the dark woods.

 _“Solitude is eating me alive, Tim. An endless pain.”_ He whispered as the cold wind moved the big ends of his pinstripe suit “ _I’m a king that wants to stop suffering.”_ And he didn’t say a single word after that, what gave room for Timothy to think about the situation they were getting involved into.

Jack, the Pumpkin King, was showing signs of depression and Timothy didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help Jack, make him feel joy over Halloween all over again, but he didn’t want to intrude in the other’s thoughts. He was the same as Jack, but he wasn’t Jack and he never would be, so he stopped floating and walked the rest of the path with him, the sun already shining bright above their heads.

Until they reached a part of the forest they didn’t know.

Jack yawned and stretched his back, looking around them and raising his eyebrows in wonder, trying to find anything familiar to him.

“Where are we?” Timothy asked, walking close behind to Jack, wanting to reach to the other and hug him. He _was_ a ghost, but that didn’t make him feel safe in strange unknown places “I think we should go back.” He shrugged and crossed his arms, looking around.

“What?! No! Come here, I’ll hug your worries away- Look at that!” Jack exclaimed and walked faster, touching the thick trunks of one of the six trees that formed a circle. He stopped in the middle of the circle and looked at the trees with awe as Timothy stood near him.

“What is this?” he pointed with a thick phalange to a pink heart shaped door as his other hand brushed the mask clasp on his chin “It’s weird.” He grunted and Timothy looked at the other doors.

“What do you think they mean? An egg? What-“ he saw Jack move away from him and looked at him, watching the King go closer to a tree shaped door.

Jack heard Timothy’s voice in the background, but couldn’t discern what was being said as his eyes landed on the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Bright colours with sparkles and a warm feeling enveloping that tree shaped door. He could feel his own eyes glow with curiosity as his feet led him to it. When he touched the doorknob – bright and lustrous against the early sunlight - he finally felt the smile that spread on his face. He opened the door slowly, waiting to be struck by warmness and bright hot colours, but met only emptiness and a dark hollow trunk.

“What is this shit?!” he yelled and closed the door, opening it again, repeating the action a few more times, making his double roll his eyes “There’s nothing inside! Who put these here? I’m gonna shoot them in the frigging face!”

“Face McShooty would appreciate that.” Timothy deadpanned and almost laughed as Jack turned to him and raised his hands in that so familiar strangulation motion, but they stopped as a whistle resonated through the air joined by rattles and small white _things_ that danced around both of their forms.

Timothy reached for Jack, who was caught by surprise because of the sudden movement of the ghost, and tripped on his own legs as he stepped back. Both falling through the open door, as Jack’s hand grasped it, trying not to fall and shutting it as they sank into the dark nothing.

Then, everything turned white.


	2. This Empty Place Inside of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's chapter 2 and I hope you guys like it!  
> I don't have much to say about this chapter, so enjoy it!!

His vision was slightly blurry and the scenery was kind of spinning as Jack opened his eyes. He shook his head and passed thick bones through his greying brown locks, blinking and trying to focus. He sat up and looked around, seeing white mountains in the distance and feeling… Cold?

He looked down and his legs were half buried in something white and _really cold,_ making his body shiver. Jack got up and hugged himself, looking at the white thing he was stepping on and seeing his feet sink into it.

“What the fuck…?” he lifted one foot and stepped on the same spot again, feeling how it was squishy and kinda crunchy. He frowned and repeated the motion with the other foot, starting to take turns with his feet and softly jumping on the same spot. Without him noticing, he had a small smile on his lips and a chuckle escaped as he started to fully jump in the same spot, feeling his calves freezing. He closed his eyes and gave a small laugh, feeling something start to spread inside his chest.

“Jack, what are you doing?”

Jack stopped mid-jump and staggered, falling backwards and landing on his back. Timothy looked at him with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. Jack frowned and got up, shaking his head, getting the cold white stuff out of his locks.

“Nothing that concerns you. Where the fuck are we?” he brushed his arms, cleaning his suit and Timothy sighed.

“I don’t know.” The ghost looked at his double and pointed at the top of the hill behind him “I thought about going up there to see if we could find something, but I didn’t want to leave you alone.” He shrugged and Jack rolled his eyes.

“How long was I out?” he passed by the ghost and started to climb the hill “This stupid… Shit… Is so hard to…” he grunted as his feet sank with each step. Timothy floating right behind him.

“Not too long. Maybe five minutes.” The King grunted in response and they finished climbing the hill. Jack’s eyes were hit with bright green and red lights as he was able to see the vale all the way down the hill. He blinked a few times and his mouth fell open.

“O-oh… My good fuck…” he chuckled and one hand held close to his chest, absentmindedly trying to clench something, hold anything that would stead his eagerness to go down there. Timothy put his own hands over his mouth as he gasped loudly.

“Oh my God! Look at that colours, Jack- Is that a merry-go-round?!” he squeaked in excitement, shaking his hands near his face, but Jack didn’t seem to listen. He stood there, looking at the tiny houses with small yellow windows and bright red rooftops. In the middle of the little village, there was a mighty tree similar to the one on the door that lead them to where they were. The ornaments glinting against the deep green of its leaves and the bright star on the top reflected in Jack’s eyes, causing him to smile softly.

“This is so… Bright and… Pretty…” he confessed and Timothy looked at his King with surprise. Jack’s voice was soft and sincere; his words resonating through the air and making Timothy smile.

“It… It is. It is indeed.” He agreed and looked at the village down below.

“I feel…” he frowned softly as he smiled and that made Timothy chuckle. He found Jack’s face funny sometimes “Warm inside.” He blinked and one lock fell over his forehead “I feel like… I want to…” he blinked and tilted his head slightly, seeming between finding the perfect word and not knowing exactly what to say. Timothy smiled and raised his eyebrows, coming closer.

“Sing? ...Bake?” only Timothy knew how the other liked to bake “Give me that hug you own me?” he opened his arms and shrugged, looking expectantly at the other. The moment was overwhelmingly pleasant that Timothy forgot how he was a ghost and that he would never be able to receive a hug.

“Burn this place to the ground.” Jack’s voice came out low and excited, making Timothy close his arms and look away.

“Oh.” Even with those words, Timothy was happy that his King was going back to be himself “Should we… Go down there? It’s really different from home.” He looked at the village down below.

“Yeah. Let’s take a look and ask some questions. Especially what the fuck is this I’m stepping on.” He crossed his arms, remembering how could the weather was and rubbed his hands over his arms, trying to get warm “And find me a damn coat! I’m freezing!” they started to climb down the hill.

“Jack… You feel cold because you’re part human? But aren’t you kind of dead?...” Timothy began asking and Jack tripped, falling on his hands, but not steading himself well enough, rolling the rest of the way “Oh, my g- Jack!” Timothy floated to the man and held his own hands to his chest, not being able to help the other “Are you okay?!”

The King put his hands on the ground, lifting himself and spat the white thing that got into his mouth. A low growl coming out of between his teeth.

“I hate this fucking place…”

They walked to the village and Jack stopped by a big red sign that had the figure of a hill with things falling from the top of it.

“ _Snow may fall._ ” He read the words on it and looked at the hills, analysing what was that snow that would maybe fall. He brushed his chin and scratched below it, feeling an itchy start near where mask met skin “Snow… Snow…” he blinked and lift his foot “This… This white shit is snow?” he frowned and Timothy said nothing, keeping his arms crossed and started to look around. Suddenly, he gasped.

“Jack!” he whispered and walked to a sculpture formed by three balls differing in size. The biggest being the base and the smallest the top. Ghost hands hovered over the sculpture as Timothy squeaked, trying to decipher it “What is this?!” he laughed stood eye level with the carrot on its face “Oh, my g- It’s a… If this is snow…” he looked around “And this is supposed to be a perso- A snowman, Jack!” he laughed and floated on his back “This is so cute!”

Jack watched from afar, as Timothy seemed to have the time of his life over a snowman. Jack’s face changed to something akin to disgust. He blinked and walked to the ghost, standing in front of the snowman, tilting his head. Jack touched the carrot and pulled it out, analysing the vegetable.

“The fuck…” he squinted and looked around, trying to come to terms that they were in some place that nothing made sense and people put carrots as noses of some _snow sculptures_. He reached to the top of the snowman and grabbed its green hat, looking inside it and frowned “No spiders…”

At the same time he was confused by that place, he was amazed. Everything was so different from Halloween Town and they had been in the village just for ten minutes! The frosty breeze cutting into his bones, the snow falling from the sky and the carrot being used as a nose in a sculpture was making Jack’s head spin. Where were they?

Jack and Timothy were taken out of their own words as they heard someone coming closer. Jack’s eyes widened and he circled the snowman, hiding behind it and crouching. Timothy was nowhere to be seen.

A small red sleigh passed in front of the snowman; three short, _very short beings_ on top of it. They wore green tunics, curved white hats on their heads and each held a piece of paper while singing some song that Jack had never heard.

“Oh…! They’re singing!” he heard Timothy’s voice and frowned, not taking his eyes off the sleigh.

“You call _that_ singing?” he was getting up, but a weird bear passed in front of the snowman and he ducked again, leaning against the sculpture to take a better look.

The bear was tall, but didn’t seem to be a real one as there were three of those short beings on top of it and a bear would never allow such thing. He squinted, trying to take a better look and saw what seemed to be a wind up key on its belly, like a toy. Jack tilted his head and tried to understand what it was he was looking at as the legs – stiffs as a board – walked over the snow without sinking on it.

“Jack! Look at that!” he heard Timothy’s voice again.

“I’m thinking, Tim, not now.”

“But they’re throwing snowballs at each other, look!” the ghost sounded excited.

Jack turned his head and saw four short beings laughing and wearing white clothes. There seemed to be two teams of two, opposing each other; three on the ground and one in a snow castle. Jack lifted an eyebrow and felt his finger’s bones sink into the snowman.

“Is it like what we do back in town with the heads? Sudden death?” from the corner of his right eye he noticed the snowman _move._ Jack turned his head to look at the sculpture and saw its stone mouth smiling at him “ _Timothy!_ Do you want to get us killed, you dumbfuck?! Stop moving this goddamn thing!” he hissed and the snowman _pouted_.

“You never let me have fun.” The sculpture went back to its motionless state and just Timothy’s voice was heard “And I don’t think it’s sudden death. Maybe it’s based on points? I mean, why would you throw stuff at other people just for fun?” there were a pause and then a sigh “Forget what I said.”

Jack rolled his eyes and looked around.

“Ok, let’s go. We need to explore more and find out where we are and how to get home.” He looked around and saw an alley between two houses, getting up and heading that way. Jack opened his mouth to give orders, but the squeak Timothy gave made him stop and give the most honest expression he could master.

“What _is it now?_ ” he saw the ghost point to a window and Jack walked back, looking inside too.

There were two of the small beings, wearing what looked like pyjamas – green and pink – and they were standing under some leaves. Jack couldn’t understand what was so endearing that made Timothy make that sound he knew Jack hated, but then, one of the short creatures kissed the other on the cheek. Jack squinted and saw them walk away while laughing.

“Wh-“ he stopped when other two, bigger than the others, stopped under the leaves and looked up, smiling. They hugged and leaned in, kissing each other on the mouth. Jack made a disgusted sound and pointed “They kis- Tim, get a hold of yourself!” he turned back and walked off.

Timothy gave a weary sigh and went after the King, not noticing how he held a hand over his chest.

They walked in the alley for a while, trying to find something that hinted to them what the place that swallowed everything with bright lights and warm smiles was called. Jack was starting to feel a headache building from behind his eyes to the back of his head from all the colourful lights hanging from the roofs. He stopped and looked above him, clearly thinking on a plan.

“We need to get to the roofs.” He looked around and saw an open window. A smile spread on his painted lips.

“Jack, no. There might be some other way to get up there without trespassing.” Timothy sighed, seeing how this could end badly “And why do you want to get on the roof?”

“First, TimTams, I need to get there because everything is easier from above, especially if you want to know where the fuck we are.” He answered, already with one leg inside the window “Second, I’m not above trespassing, pumpkin.” Timothy rolled his eyes and went through the wall, putting his hands on his hips. Jack hated when he did that, because it made him so much like himself.

“You’re not above murder, Jack.” He sighed.

“Exactly. I don’t know how you keep forgetting that.” He chuckled and steadied his feet on the soft carpet, smoothing his coat.

“Is there even anything you’re above?” Timothy asked with a bored expression, like he was expecting a no for an answer.

“Rape.” The King answered quickly and looked around, noticing they were in someone’s bedroom. The ghost made a funny face, then clicked his tongue, moving his eyebrows in agreement “Now that you’re done with judging me, how about we get on the damn roof?” Jack whispered and walked to the bed nearby, seeing a child – he supposed it was that given the size of the being – and tilted his head, leaning in and analysed its features.

Soft looking pink cheeks, a long nose and big closed eyes. Small hands holding a stuffed bear and the blankets seemed so warm, he didn’t question how it was sleeping so soundly. Jack kneeled on the floor and looked under the bed, frowning.

“There’s nothing here.” He whispered and got up, tiptoeing out of the room and Timothy followed him. They entered another bedroom and, in the middle of the room, there was a big bed with four children sleeping on it. Jack approached it and looked sceptically at the children, trying to see if any of them was having a nightmare of if anything was happening.

They had the blankets up to their necks and all seemed to smile while sleeping, looking happy even when there was nothing to be happy about. The long noses, small cheeks and big eyes made Jack’s chest tighten and his bones felt warm. Why was he having these sensations just by looking at children? He hated the little devils, knowing the ones back at Halloween Town, he could not bear to look at them without wanting to strangle their little throats.

“Jack. You’re too close.” Timothy warned and Jack noticed how he was touching the child’s cheek, feeling the warmth and softness of their skin. He closed his hand and walked away with a tight expression. Timothy following close behind.

They got on the roof after going to the attic and climbing through a skylight. The cold wind hitting Jack’s face, making his bones rattle and Timothy laugh. When Jack was cold, he would shake and his body made a sound of bones inside of a bag being tossed around.

Looking around, Jack spotted something in the distance, thinking that that may be the village entrance. They could just go in that direction, find out where they were and maybe discover how they could go back to Halloween Town. However, something else caught his attention too.

Jack saw big windows with shadows moving on them, making him squint to discern what was happening inside that building. He looked around and saw how the roofs were close to one another, being easy for him to jump from one to the other until he got near to the windows. Holding the brim of his sleeve, he cleaned the frost off the window and peeked inside. What he saw made his eyes sparkle.

There were machines everywhere, making stuffed bears and other toys. Manufacturing accessories that seemed to be so popular in that town, in green, red and white. A short being – that Jack decided to call red-cheeks – threw firewood inside a furnace, making the fire vivid and Jack frowned, not understanding how that fire did not look threatening at all. And Jack understood fire like no one else.

He started to think about everything he was seeing and how he had never heard of a town with such odd antics. Nothing was making sense to the King and he was getting frustrated for not understanding the place.

“Jack, this place is… So different.” Timothy roved above him, seeming happy with everything surrounding them “So different from Halloween Town.” A soft smile on his lips “I wish home was like this.”

Jack looked at his ghost and shook his head in disapproval.

“Weird and nonsensical?”

“Colourful.” Timothy looked at his double and the smile reached his eyes.

Jack never understood Timothy completely. Before he gained the name of Pumpkin King there was no Timothy following him around. He was a lonely half-breed that wandered around the cemeteries, carving pumpkins and digging up tombs just to have something to do.

One day he snapped, beginning his story as the most feared murderer of the town, gaining his title and position. Timothy appeared near his bed one night, features so soft and freckles so gleaming that Jack remembered thinking that angels – those things that Crazy Earl liked to scream about – were truly real. Since then, they did not leave each other’s side. Sometimes Jack wondered if the ghost had to be so near him to exist or he would vanish if not.

And now, watching Timothy smile so sincerely because of the bright lights, soft snow and the smell of bakery goods in the air made Jack frightened. He would never understand how someone so different, so misplaced ended up linked to him in a place that had murder as one of the normal things to happen. In a place that, each year, they burned and tortured humans that ended up in the town by some unlucky chance.

Did it mean there was something good inside of Jack? Something similar to what Timothy was and if so, was the glimpse of pure naivety the ghost had shared? That uncertain feeling pissed Jack off.

The King looked around and snarled, seeing the bakery at the other side of street and the pies on its window. He sat on the brick windowsill and held his hands together on his lap, his legs dangling.

“I’m burning this place, Timothy. Don’t get too used to it.” He looked down, not having the courage to look at the ghost. Sighing he jumped down, landing on the soft snow and got up, cleaning his suit. He started to walk away, hearing Timothy’s voice in a small hushed whisper.

“Jack, maybe you-you could not burn it down? I-I mean… They did nothing to us and… It’s so pretty around here.” He tried to change Jack’s mind over the matter. Destroying such a beautiful place for no reason made no sense to Timothy, even if he knew how Jack would like to do exactly that. The King did not answer and he tried to change tactics “Lo-look” he got in front of Jack and tried to touch his chest, his hands passing through it.

“Th-they… They have a… An industry!” he pointed his arm in the direction of it “And… And look at their bakery! It’s fancy!” his eyes begging “Th-they must have a-a clientele or something!” his eyes looking every part of Jack’s face “I-It must mean they’re rich, right?!” he appealed, feeling out of breath even though he didn’t breathe.

Jack raised his left eyebrow and blinked slowly, looking at the ghost. A clear sign that he waited for Timothy to finally say what he meant. The ghost leaned in and whispered.

“Maybe, instead of burning the town… We could just rob it?” he raised both eyebrows “Steal everything they have.” He looked into Jack’s mismatched eyes, observing the clash of green and blue against black sclera “Please, Jack.”

The King looked into his ghost’s eyes and kept silent for a while, analysing what the other suggested. His words reverberating in his mind, working around the meaning and imagining the situations that that suggestion could bring. He squinted and looked aside, putting his hands in his pockets, feeling the snow fall on his hair and dampen it.

“If we robbed this place…” his eyes going from the lights to the merry-go-round far away from them “We would need man power.” He licked his lips and put a hand on his chin, feeling the mask clasp “We would need all of Halloween Town to help us.” He heard a motor sound and looked behind him, seeing a snow jet pass by them.

Jack quickly withdrew his pistol from his thigh holster and shot the red-cheek in the head. Blood tinting the white snow red and the snow jet hit the sign pole. The King walked to the corpse and began digging the snow, trying to make a hole so he could hide the body.

Timothy observed the action with wide eyes, watching his King drag the small body to the shallow grave and cover it with snow. There was no more red, no more corpse and a wild look in Jack’s eyes.

“We’re going back home and we’ll make a plan. This place is gonna be mine, kiddo.” He holstered the gun and got up the snow jet, glancing up to the sign “Christmas Town? The fuck kind of name is that?” he frowned and looked at Timothy “You liked this place so much, pumpkin, you’re making the research about it. You know what to do.”

The ghost swallowed with a dry throat and sat against Jack’s back, crossing his arms and looking down. He didn’t need to hold onto the other for he would not fall, so he just kept his eyes down, watching the lights glow against the sparkling snow while Jack turned on the engine.

“There must be someone in charge of this place. Someone who we can kidnap and make talk. Give us everything we need to know.” They rounded the sign and headed to the woods, stopping just at the entrance of the forest. Jack looked behind them, ignoring Timothy’s expression and looked to the village, his eyes landing on a house with two floors. One door opened and a big, round shadow appeared against the snow “There.” He smiled devilish and the engine roared again, the snow jet entering the woods.

 

 

Halloween Town was in disquiet. Its citizens talked loudly around the town square, trying to put the pieces together about the fact that their King had disappeared over night. The day after the Big Event was one for celebrating the success that was Halloween and Jack liked to invite everyone to the Main Hall to drink and put the needed fear into their hearts.

The Meriff passed through the crowd and climbed the stairs to the roof of his car. His head turned around and a worried expression appeared, showing faint red eyes, a hole for a nose and a turned smile full of pointed teeth.

“We need to find Jack!” he patted his head with a handkerchief, holding a megaphone with the other hand “There’s only 365 days till the next Halloween.”

“364!” a werewolf wearing plaid held four fingers up and the Meriff growled.

“Did we check everything?”

They went closer to the funeral car and looked up at the two-faced man.

“I looked in every mausoleum!” the clown moved his hands while trying to steady himself over the monocycle.

“We opened every sarcophagus!” cried the witches, stepping aside so the babadook could pass through. One of his feet stuck inside of a pumpkin, making him limp.

“I looked everywhere in the pumpkin patch and the cemetery.” His long fingers reaching for the pumpkin, trying to free his foot.

“I peeked behind the cyclops’ eye.” A vampire came near, holding an umbrella over his head so the sun could not burn him. His free hand pulled out his right eye, showing how he did to look behind the cyclops’ eye, but the shortest witch hit him with her broom, making his eye go back into his skull “I did! I swear!”

“He’s nowhere to be found!” another vampire cried. The Meriff looked at them and sweat rolled down his forehead. He pointed to the little mummy by his side.

“It’s time to sound the alarms!”

The mummy held the tail of the metal cat and started to rotate it, making it open its mouth and the screech echoed throughout the city, reaching every corner, every window. Even Tassiter’s house.

Rhys looked over the window, trying to get a glimpse of the main square. The siren making his threads itch as he walked away from the window, gripping the spoon.

He had heard about Jack’s disappearance when he got up that morning. Tassiter would not shut up about how the King finally had gone away and that he should never come back. Rhys stood silent as he cooked the scientist’s breakfast and listening to him ramble about the issue, trying to prick Rhys.

Now, with the siren echoing against the walls of the kitchen, making every thread of Rhys’ body itch and burn, he knew he had to go after Jack. He saw where the other had gone the night before and maybe there was some hint to where the King had gone that night. But he needed to escape first.

He licked his lips and walked to the balcony, grabbing the nightshade cream he had made with some other herbs and seasoning. He put it inside the big cauldron and the smell hit him with full force, making Rhys distort his face in disgust and reach for the Frog’s Breath pot.

“It overpowers any odour.” He whispered to himself and opened the lid, seeing a fat frog put it’s head out and barf into the soup. The smell, bitter and rancid, made the doll’s vision blur and he almost dropped the pot, screwing the lid back as fast as he could, feeling something acid in his mouth “Bitter… O-Oh…” he stumbled to the cabinet and roamed in it “Worm’s Wart. Where the f- Where…” he coughed.

His fingers brushed the bottle and he put the other hand over his nose, grabbing it and going back to the soup, pouring almost everything into it.

“Rhys?! Where is the soup?! I’m hungry!” the old man’s voice came from the lab and Rhys just smiled as the rancid smell was substituted with a sweet odour, making his own mouth water.

“Coming!” the seams on his face pulling a bit.

Tassiter was looking through some x-rays when Rhys entered the room. The scientist lifted the metallic part of his head, exposing his grey brain and scratched it, clearly thinking about something. Rhys hated when he did that because of the sound it made.

“Lunch!” he smiled and put the bowl in front of the other, holding his hands in front of his body. Tassiter leaned in and sniffed the soup.

“Hm… Worm’s Wart!” he took a spoonful to his mouth, but stopped as his nose caught something else “And… Frog’s Breath…?” he looked at Rhys that took some steps back, holding his shoulders up in defence.

“What’s wrong?” he blinked a few times and stuttered “I-I thought you liked Frog’s Breath.” He leaned back as Tassiter almost threw the spoon at him.

“Nothing’s more suspicious than _Frog’s Breath._ ” He grabbed the bowl and slid it to Rhys, holding the spoon to his mouth. Rhys blinked and looked to the other side, moving his hands nonchalantly.

“I’m not hungr- oops.” His fingers hit the spoon that fell to the ground. Tassiter eyed him suspiciously and the doll shrugged.

“You want me to starve. An old man to whom you own your very life!” Rhys rolled his eyes as the older man spit hard words, trying to get to him. He crouched and batted the spoon to the side, underneath the platform that Tassiter’s wheelchair was. He took out of his sock a spoon with holes on it and stood up, grabbing the bowl.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” He put the spoon in the soup and saw it pass through the holes,  taking the flatware to his lips and slurping “Hmmm! See? Delicious.” He smiled and handed the bowl to the other, smiling as he brought it to his mouth and started to gulp. Even the disgusting sound he made while gulping the soup, and it streaming down his chin, did nothing to make Rhys stop looking at the scientist.

He grabbed the bowl and took it to the kitchen, cleaning everything until he heard a loud thud. The smile never leaving his face as he got a blanket and laid it over the older man’s shoulders. Not a single streak of worry getting room in Rhys’ chest as he walked to the main square.

 

 

The Meriff was defeated, looking to the grey sky as everyone seemed to share the same feeling of being lost, looking as if they were mourners.

“Did anyone think to drench the lake?” the Meriff’s voice was sore from screaming and sobbing about Jack’s disappearance. A vampire yawned and adjusted the umbrella over his own head.

“This morning.”

Suddenly, they heard someone yell and a witch raised her head, looking around. She took off her hat and put the pointy part against her ear.

“Did you hear that?” she squinted her eyes and tried to listen better.

“Jack, go slower! You’ll hit the gate!!” the Meriff’s head turned and the wide smile appeared again as everyone looked at the gate.

“That was Timothy’s voice!” one vampire exclaimed and they got up, seeing the gate open and a snow jet pass through at full speed. Jack’s booming laugh echoed and the citizens smiled, cheering that their King was back.

“Jack! It’s Jack!!” they pointed and cried in relief as he parked the jet near the funeral car and smiled widely, adjusting his suit. Something glinted in his eyes, something wild and ready to explode. Timothy was sitting on the jet with crossed arms and a big sack by his side. They had turned around to grab some proof to show where they had been.

“Jack! Where have you been?!” the Meriff looked like he was ready to face plant on the floor as he leaned from the roof car. The look the King gave him, made his head turn and the worried expression came back.

“I want a meeting at the Main Hall and I’ll tell everyone about it!” he moved his eyebrows and brushed his thick hair back, putting a foot on the jet’s handlebar. Timothy looked uncomfortable.

“When?” the Meriff’s voice went down a few octaves, feeling chill run down his spine.

“Immediately!” Jack’s voice went high pitched and he kicked the funeral car’s side, making the Meriff lose balance and fall on his back on the roof. Jack seemed to have some weird energy flowing through his bones as he drove the jet to the Main Hall.


	3. Like a Most Improbable Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS! I'm so sorry for the delay!! I'm having tests and my uni is in a really bad moment right now because of our government status and everything so I had to focus on other things, but here is chapter 3 for all of you!!  
> I'm really liking to write this fic! With all the heavy atmosphere and everything! I think I've never used so many exclamation points in my life lmao  
> So this chapter is stuff starting to get kinda heavy and starting to diverge from the plot of the movie, but later on, in another chapter, it will come back to the plot about christmas and stuff.  
> HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!!

The Main Hall was used with many means by the townspeople: theatre, choirs, school plays and meetings. A stage in front of five rows of chairs, which were occupied by the people that entered the place. Rhys looked around in awe, being it the first time he ever set foot in there.

The ceiling high above their heads, the masks on the walls behind the stage and the big grey curtains that could open at any moment to show something amazing. His mismatched eyes roamed over the place as he stopped and noticed that there were no more places for him to sit. He sighed and placed his hands in front of his body, trying not to feel too misplaced while being the only one standing.

Feeling a slight touch on his shoulder, he looked behind him and saw the big sentient tree that carried the hanged corpses. The tree smiled and pointed to one of its thickets branches, indicating that Rhys could sit there if he wanted. He blushed a soft blue and blinked, thanking the tree and climbing it, sitting between two worn out ropes and trying to keep his legs out of the corpses’ vision site.

It was high up and he could see everyone and the stage clearly. He smiled to himself and, when the door next to the stage opened, he put one hand over his mouth, containing his excitement over what was happening. A few meters from where he was, climbing the three stairs to the stage, was the Pumpkin King adjusting his pinstripe suit and fixing his hair.

Jack looked over everyone, a big smile stretched on his lips as the voices died down, and the hall went silent. The power he had over the citizens was one of the King’s favourite things, almost a turn on.

“Listen, everyone! I want to tell you about _Christmas Town._ ” The Meriff positioned the spotlight on Jack, expulsing the bats that were sleeping on it. The King smiled and moved his hands while starting to tell his tale “Me and Timothy went to a different place this night. A place so peculiar that your little zombie dead brains would never get the true meaning of it. Would tantalize your noodles for days!” he crackled “That’s why you’ve gotta believe in me.” He looked over the public.

Some obese old lady with her few strands of hair on her greenish skin looked to Jack with glowing yellow eyes and brownish teeth. She adjusted her glasses and her dress seemed to rip a bit more on the side.

“Imma show you. It’s frigging weird, but it exists.” He walked to the curtain rope and pulled it, showing them the crooked tree he got to improvise a Christmas one. When the curtains opened, the crowd gasped with the red and yellow glow that bled into the grey around it.

Rhys put a hand over his mouth and took a deep breath, trying not to blink so he could not miss a single thing of that bright tree. Bulging eyes widening more as something so odd came into view and Timothy waved from near the tree, smiling shyly.

“Hi, Timothy!” someone yelled from the back of the crowd and the ghost shrugged his shoulders, looking embarrassed.

“Hi, Crazy Earl.” He answered and Jack rolled his eyes, walking to the tree and opened one arm, showing the colourful object.

“This is a christmas tree.” He walked around it and tilted his head a bit “In this town, there’s a big one. Ten times bigger than this here.” he walked to a red and white box resting on top of a chair and raised it on the top of the bones of his hand “This is what we call a present.” He throw one to the audience and the werewolf grabbed it, looking at it with curiosity “There are millions of these in that town.”

“It’s a box.” The werewolf grunted and the witches came flying on their brooms, grabbing the box from his hairy paws and started to toss it between them.

“A box?” the shorter one asked and shook the box, trying to listen to what was inside it.

“Is it steel?” the tall one asked while flying around the other “Are there locks?” she tilted her head, analysing the paper wrapping and tried to touch it again.

“Maybe it’s filled with pox!” the short one exclaimed and there were amazed gasps on the crowd. A small red devil opened a bright smiled with yellow teeth.

“A pox! How delightful, a pox!” he chuckled and Jack put his hands on his waist, looking at the witches floating above him.

“Ladies.” He extended one hand and the short one put the present back on his hand “Just a box.” He raised it again and smiled, pointing at it “With bright coloured paper and the whole’s thing topped with a bow.” His thick phalanges passed on the red bow and quickly untied it, letting the fabric fall to the ground “The point of this box is not to know what’s in it.” he began tearing the paper and the crowd leaned forwards, expectantly.

The cardboard box fell to the ground as Jack took the content inside it and raised it for everyone to see. The curves and wooden colour making it give the sensation of preciousness while Jack brought his hand down slowly as he walked to the other side of the stage. Timothy was near the tree, crossed arms and a guilty expression forming on his features, making him low his eyes to the ground.

“This is a wooden horse. It’s a toy made in that town.” He gave them a small smile as his eyes went over the design of the toy.

“A toy!!” the monster kid from the lake stood on its wings and his small slimy hands went to his mouth, covering it. Its big green head with red eyes looking cute to the others looking in its direction.

“Does it bite?!” the small mummy exclaimed and clapped her hands, blinking in awe.

“Does it snap?!” they looked at each other and started to clap hands after each question, having fun with the whole thing.

“Or explode in the sack?!”

“Maybe it just scares girls and boys!” the child with sewn eyes exclaimed and tried to get to the stage, but his mother held him tight by the leash around his neck.

The Meriff’s nervous voice came from above and everyone looked at him.

“What splendid things you’ve brought to us, Jack! I fully endorse whatever you want to do with that magnificent town!” in all his excitement, the Meriff stepped on a broken part of the wooden floor and almost fell, holding tight to the spotlight, making the bright light roam around the room for a few seconds, startling some of the citizens.

Jack was looking at the crow in front of him and a look of pure boredom assumed his features as he put the horse toy over the chair. He took the pistol from his thigh holster and shoot at the ceiling, making everyone look at him. Rhys was the last one that the spotlight’s brightness passed over and his skin glistened in the light, catching Jack’s eyes. He blinked, not moving a single inch as he looked to the doll sitting on the tree branch.

His eyes locked on his face and the King tried to recognize him, feeling that he had seen the other somewhere else. Before lowering his gun, he could not stop himself from looking at the other’s legs, noticing how they were extremely long and somewhat disproportional to the other’s body.

He holstered his gun and passed his purple tongue over his tinted lips.

“Everyone is done talking over me? Great, because Imma shot the first person who interrupts me again.” His voice coming low, making the room feel cold “TimTams here” he looked behind him and extended a hand for Timothy, who took a deep breath and walked to the King’s side “gave me a great idea.” He looked to the ghost and smiled in a way that showed his canines and some of the purplish gum “Tell them what you suggested, Tim.”

The ghost locked eyes with his King and the tension in the room seemed to grow as everyone saw how Timothy’s jaw tightened. He passed his tongue over his lips and looked at the crowd, stepping forward and smiled shyly; being sure that if he were still alive his heart would be beating so fast he would die from a heart attack.

“Hi.” He began and Rhys put a hand over his mouth, feeling empathy for the ghost. It was rare to see him interacting with the townspeople for he was not like the usual ghosts that roamed the city, looking like a cold white fog. Only Crazy Earl seemed to be the one that Timothy would exchange a few words once in a while and no one knew why this favouritism “I… Jack…” he tried and some people tilted their heads, waiting.

Timothy looked to the ground and rubbed one of his arms.

“Whe-when we got there, Jack… Wanted to burn the village.” He rose his eyes and saw a few smiles that approved of the pyrotechnical idea “Hm… B-but… I-I think that we don’t need to burn it.” He knew Jack had put him, literally, on the spotlight like that so he would feel humiliated in front of everyone. The whole Halloween Town knew how Timothy was different from them; his mannerisms, ideas and softness gave away a being that had nothing to do with the bloody lifestyle of the small town. So he didn’t meet frowns nor disapproving looks when he suggested to not burn the town.

He met pity.

“They have an industry there. A big one.” He tried again and looked at Jack, asking silently for him to show the others things they brought. Jack rolled his eyes and went to the sack, bringing it near the end of the stage and opening it, letting the toys and baked goods fall over to the ground, meeting some people feet “Just look at what we brought from there. They use… G-gold in everything and the colours are so vivid!” he clenched his hands over his chest.

The people in the back got up and walked to the front, looking at what the King threw on their feet. Wooden coloured toys were passed from hand to hand as some people gasped in awe and claws tried not to damage anything.

“There’s nothing like these around here. It must come from somewhere far away.” He watched as a child grabbed a piece of bread and felt its softness. She looked up and Timothy smiled “Eat it.” Everyone looked to the child as she looked at the bread again and smelled it, frowning slightly. Timothy chuckled and the kid gave a small bite, chewing on it. Her eyes lit up and she put the whole thing in her mouth, drooling a bit.

“They bake, so they sell it. Selling it means they have a clientele, which means they have money or precious metal.” His eyes caught sight of Tassiter’s doll as he approached the crowd with unsure steps and crossed arms “I think we should rob them. Get everything we can from them.” He looked at Jack again, almost begging him to come and talk again, but Jack just rose an eyebrow and blinked in boredom “We’ll kidnap their leader and bring him here to get information.”

“Who’s their leader?” a zombie with small eyes and a big wide mouth asked while holding one of the dolls in his hands.

“A man called Sandy Claws.” He sighed and put a hand on his forehead “That’s what we heard while getting these things.” He pointed at the toys.

Jack looked from Timothy to the crowd that seemed to have fun while exploring the goods spread on the floor. Children digging on the pile to find more of the bread while some other found what looked like wooden swords and Jack prayed for them to stab each other and die. His eyes found a red haired doll that slid a bit far away from the pile and he saw the brunette from before get down and grab it.

The King frowned slightly as he observed the scene. The long fingers holding the doll with curiosity and carefulness as he stood up, making Jack’s mouth open slightly. His legs were longer than he though before and he remembered from where he knew that man. It was Tassiter’s doll.

Before becoming Pumpkin King, he dug graves, opening caskets to loot whatever was inside and, one day, a man came to him and asked to find some fresh corpses and that he would pay for the service. Jack found it weird at first, but didn’t say a thing, accepting the job and being handed a list with body parts that needed to be found. When he looked at the handwriting, he knew who was the real employer and he almost declined the service.

Tassiter was one of the first people that made Jack feel ashamed for what he was. The scientist spat on him once when he was younger, calling him _half-breed_ and other names, belittling him, making Jack outcast himself and live on the outskirts of the town. He thought that growing up outside of the citizens eyes was good to him, being that Tassiter himself couldn’t recognize the skeleton that he used to push and spit.

Jack accepted the job and dug the graves, finding the fresh body parts on the list and delivered them as asked, receiving the money for it, buying his first pistol with it.

The King tilted his head, looking at the doll a few feet away from him and put his hands on his waist, remembering if he had delivered a head with those body parts. And why was his face so damaged like that? Split cheeks giving him an eternal smile and the coloured eyes – brown and blue – looking glassy from where the King stood. He kept watching the brunette while he touched the doll and brushed its hair with his long fingers, seeming deep in thought.

How must it feel for a doll to hold another on his hands? A sentient flesh doll that could walk around while the other was just an inanimate object made of porcelain and cotton. Jack kept looking at the brunette, trying to figure out what he was thinking and his glare must have weighed on the other as he looked up and their eyes met.

Rhys’ body shook as he gasped when his eyes met with the King’s ones. Why was he looking at him with such intensity? Black sclera making the irises colours melt into it, giving the eyes a bizarre feeling that crept through Rhys’ spine. He couldn’t avoid the hard stare, feeling his body paralysed and the time seemed to slow down. Before everything went back to normal, Jack mouthed for him to stay and Rhys held the doll tight between his hands as he sat down on the chair and waited.

“And we’ll need manpower to invade the village. They seem weak, so we don’t need too many people.” Timothy’s voice found Jack’s ears and he looked at the ghost “But to be sure we’re not meeting resistance, we’ll send a survey group first.” He finished explaining “Any questions?” he crossed his arms and shrugged.

“Who’ll you send there?” one of the vampires asked and Timothy looked at Jack, whom rolled his eyes.

“We’re deciding.” Jack raised one hand “But as soon as it’s decided, I’ll call for another meeting. You are dismissed for now.” He waved his hand and the murmurs began as they passed through the closing curtains and Timothy approached Jack, who looked over his shoulder, signing for the doll to get behind the stage.

“Do you think it went well?” the ghost asked as Jack neared the Christmas tree, took a red ball in his phalanges, and smiled.

“It went great, pumpkin. I’ll contact the survey group later.” He looked to the ghost and tilted his head “And you’ll go to the library and look over some books. Ok?” Timothy opened his mouth to talk, but was interrupted by a crack on the wooden floor. The ghost looked behind himself and blinked, seeing Tassiter’s doll “I’ll be busy for a while.” He gave him a sly smile and walked to the other man, snapping his fingers and making him follow him.

Timothy looked at that scene, closed his eyes, putting his hands on his face, and took a deep breath. He felt in his core that that encounter would not end well.

 

 

Rhys could feel his hands shaking as he held them together in front of his body while walking beside Jack. He tried to control how his breath would come out, not wanting to make any sudden movement that could make the King snap at him or decide he didn’t want more of his company. They walked out of the Main Hall, in the direction of Jack’s house, which made Rhys’ legs start to feel like bat jelly. He gulped, but kept silent.

Under the moonlight, Rhys observed the back of Jack’s hair, seeing the pitch-black skin glowing as the vertebrae tattoos went down the collar, hiding under the suit. The brunette looked down, trying to conceal his desire to just touch the other and feel every line and bone that composed his body. Their steps echoing on the empty streets as they neared the gates to the King’s house.

They stopped and Jack opened the gate, being followed by Rhys. They climbed the stairs and Rhys felt his threads itch as the main door closed behind him and he looked up, seeing the inside of his King’s house. The wide foyer extending to both sides, making the tall man feel small as he stepped on the grey tiles, hearing Jack’s footsteps echoing as he headed to the stairs.

A big chandelier in the middle of ceiling lit without warning, startling Rhys a bit and making him stare at it, having the flames burn into his eyes. The light hitting the crystals dangling from the object made the room shine with the reflection that spread all over the room. Jack scoffed as he leaned his hands on the handrail and Rhys looked at him, seeing white spots blur his vision.

“It was Timothy’s idea.” He looked at the doll “Get over here.” He called and saw how the other didn’t move a single inch. Jack snarled, “GET. OVER. HERE!” he yelled and Rhys’ long legs climbed almost three steps at a time, stopping near the King. He was almost a foot taller than the other was, but he felt small under Jack’s gaze, feeling his cold skin crawl.

“What’s your name?” he asked and Rhys looked away.

“Rh-rhys.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up as he heard the deep voice the other had and chuckled, reaching for his neck, touching the thread that connected head and body.

“Rhys. Ok.” He rubbed the flesh and travelled his thumb to the other’s chin, wanting to reach the threads on his mouth, but stopped “Come with me.” He walked away, down the hall and Rhys followed him. His hands squeezing one another as he looked at Jack’s wide back, feeling his skin itch and his clothes felt too rough on his own skin.

The hallway was dark as they passed by many closed doors, reaching the last one on the far end. Rhys wondered if the rumours that Jack had torture rooms in his house were true, but tried to focus on how his hands were shaking. Jack opened the door and gave passage to Rhys, letting him enter first and going after, closing the door. Rhys’ eyes widened and his hands flew to his mouth, covering it.

They were in Jack’s bedroom.

He contracted his shoulders and looked around, trying not to humiliate himself by freaking out in front of the Pumpkin King. There were big windows that extended from the ground all the way up to the ceiling, making the room look like a glass case. There were tall candleholders in each corner of the room and Rhys wondered when Jack used those, being he one of the few in town that had electricity. A built-in wardrobe in one of the walls, an electric chair rested against the left wall, piles of books around the room, a fireplace by his right and, against the wall that faced the door, there was the biggest bed Rhys had ever seen.

The brunette looked behind him and saw the King watching him. He looked down instantly and felt the silence crush him as the other kept looking his way, making him feel small and guilty even though he had done nothing.

“Rhys.” He looked up and there was a shadow of a smile on the King’s face “You’ve been Tassiter’s doll for how long?” he started to walk and put his hands behind his back, passing by the other. Rhys felt as if his skin was colder than usual.

“S-since my birth.” He kept his eyes down “It’s been some years.” He saw the man tilt his head to the side.

“Was it before or after I became King?” Jack stopped walking and looked to the other, seeing surprise on his face “Can you tell?”

Rhys blinked a few times and looked to his sides, trying to say something, but coming empty. He fidget where he stood and his jaw tightened; a guilty expression finding place on his face.

“I-I can’t re-remember much of that time, s-sir.” He held his yellow arm, wanting to look at the other, but just having enough courage to look at the King’s feet, focusing on the metal buckles on each shoe. He saw Jack kicking someone once and guessed there were buckles there to cause greater damage “I-I’m sorry.”

“Uh, it’s okay.” He walked to the electric chair and sat on it, crossing his legs “Come here.”

Rhys obeyed and stopped near the chair, in front of Jack. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, not knowing what the King had seen in him that made him bring Rhys to his own house. He dared to look up and saw interest in the other’s eyes.

“Undress.” His low voice demanded and Rhys’ eyes widened “Just the shirt for now.” He rested his elbow on the armchair and kept his eyes glued on the other. Rhys took a deep breath and started to unbutton his shirt. Jack observed each movement, noticing how the other’s fingers opened his shirt almost automatically and lifeless.

When Rhys finished opening it, he folded it and walked to the bed, putting it over the mattress. He walked back to near Jack and the King looked to the other’s chest, analysing the sewn in Y on his chest. The skeleton raised his hand and touched the threads, feeling the bumpy skin that deformed the other’s torso. He couldn’t help but notice the yellow leather that formed Rhys’ right arm.

“I don’t remember this.” He whispered and got up, travelling bony fingers near the other’s navel. Rhys looked at his King’s face and frowned slightly “Do you know my story, Rhys? What I did before becoming King?” the doll shook his head and looked to the thick bones that caressed his chest.

“I dug graves and looted caskets.” He sighed and rounded the other, never letting his bones stop touching the cold skin. He chuckled “One day, a man came to me and gave me a list with body parts.” He stopped behind Rhys and held his nape “Two torsos, fresh arms, long legs. Beautiful fresh parts for a man that hated my guts because I’m hybrid.” He kept whispering, letting his hand glide down the other’s back.

Rhys listened and kept still, trying to understand where that conversation was going. He couldn’t believe that Jack had started so low: a graveyard robber. He looked to nowhere in particular, trying to put the pieces together as Jack talked. He looted graves, got a job to find body parts and talked about Tassiter. Rhys looked over his own shoulder.

“You took me to Tassiter.” A whisper.

“Yeah. But the head wasn’t me. Neither was this arm.” He rounded the other again, touching the leather with carefulness, trying to understand why that arm was a leather replacement to one of those he took to the scientist “Where he found this pretty face is not something that I know.” The King tilted his head and touched the other’s chin “Tell me, Rhys. Why did Tassiter bring such a beautiful creature to life?”

Rhys looked at Jack and his glassy eyes unfocused for a few seconds. Memories flooding the brunette’s head as his shoulder slumped and his hands began to shake. Why did Tassiter make Rhys? What was the purpose behind the threads and scars that littered his body?

Brown and blue looked into blue and green and the threads around Rhys’ mouth itched.

“I’m his doll.”

For a moment, everything was silent. Jack’s head tilted an inch to the left as he kept looking into the other’s eyes and squinted. Those words reverberating in his mind as he tried to understand the real meaning behind them. His thumb and index holding Rhys’ chin so softly that he could barely feel it. The other seemed to be holding a breath, as his chest didn’t move and they felt static.

Jack’s eyes went to the doll’s mouth, looking at the seams that maculated white flesh, looking tight and rough.

_I’m his doll._

He looked to Rhys’s chest and the big Y that went from his collarbones to his navel. The reddened flesh so cautiously sewed together, almost lovingly.

_His doll._

He looked to the yellow leather and the question came to the front of his mind. Why did Tassiter use leather when he had delivered perfect arms for the other to use? Why had he improvised a limb?

_Doll._

He looked at Rhys’ face again and how the suture seemed tight in his cheeks. The flesh almost popping as it engulfed the threads and made it look painful. Too painful for a lovingly doll, for a precious gorgeous thing such as Rhys, too painful to be in his face of all things.

He looked at the other’s temple and the scar that went deep within brown locks. The suture that travelled down left eyebrow and blue eye. Jack squinted and he looked at the other’s mouth again, noticing how the seam touched the other’s lip corners as if threatening to shut it completely. As if it were a warning to keep a secret.

_DOLL._

Jack gave two steps back and frowned, looking at the other’s face and never leaving it. The glassy lifeless eyes looking at him and expecting nothing. Or maybe expecting the same old thing to happen again.

Rhys reached for his belt and started to unbuckle it, opening his fly and letting his pants fall to the ground. Jack’s eyes didn’t leave the other’s face as he approached him and touched his shoulders, seeming unfazed by anything he did. Rhys leaned in and his lips met the King’s own, the doll’s eyes closing as he spread kisses on the other’s cheek and went down to his throat. He slid his hands over his chest and kneeled on the floor.

“Rhys.” Jack called him and held his wrists before they reached for his own belt. He looked down and saw opaque colours looking back at him. A sort of trance if he wanted to name it. Jack snarled and let go of one wrist, raising his hand high and hitting the other’s cheek with force, seeing him fall to the side. He watched as the doll looked around and some threads were split, making his back teeth appear “Dress yourself. We’re gonna chat.”


	4. Whistleblower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people!! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!! It's a bit smaller than the others, but I really liked to write it!  
> Have a good read and don't forget to let me know what you're all thinking about the story!! <3

Rhys kept his eyes down low, unfocused and his mind was somewhere else. He didn't want to think about the fact that he went into a trance in front of the Pumpkin King and humiliated himself. He could still feel the shape of the King’s big hand against his cheek, the threads snapping and opening the wound.

He held his button-up tight, wanting to bury himself and disappear, erasing anything that just happened. A couple of buttons dug into his palm, but he didn't notice nor care, for he was trying to disassociate, trying to get time to pass faster.

The sound of porcelain made him jump and look forward, seeing a pinkish teacup with a golden handle be put in front of him. Jack’s finger bones lingering on the saucer a bit more until he sat beside the other.

Jack’s eyes scanned the doll’s face as he looked at the teacup. Brown and blue looked at him, begging for forgiveness.

“I don't eat, sir. I'm sorry.” his voice came out weird because of the open seam on his cheek.

Jack tilted his head and blinked a bit, letting a scoff come out and he pulled the saucer towards himself, holding the teacup and drinking a bit, sighing.

Rhys looked at the other, feeling jealous. He wanted to know what it was like to eat, to feel full and enjoy the tastes each pastry, candy and other foods had. When he succeeded on going out, he would stop by the bakery and imagine what eating the cakes and pies would be like. He would sit in one of the alleys of the restaurant street and close his eyes, letting himself be engulfed by the smells.

When he stayed home, he would let his window open by lunchtime, resting against the wall and enjoying the sensation of what imagination could bring to him. He had organs, but none of them worked. No heart beating, no lungs filling with air, nothing. Once, he tried to eat and ended up throwing up a pitch-black sticky goo.

“So, Rhys.” he stopped and made a sound with his mouth using saliva “Rhysie.” he looked at the other again “Tell me about Tassiter.” his voice came calm and Rhys looked down again.

He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Would he be able to tell the King what Tassiter was like? Tell him what the scientist made him to be and why he went into that humiliating trance from before? He looked up again and noticed how Jack looked at him with curiosity and almost… Empathy? Rhys held the other’s gaze for a little longer, just to be sure it was empathy he was seeing in those black sclera. When he looked away, his shoulders slumped.

“He… What do you want to know…?” he fidget and leaned back, resting his back on the chair and crossed his arms over his chest “I’m… I’m not sure… About what to tell you.”

Jack kept looking at the brunette, noticing how he was trying to hide behind his own crossed arms, trying to look small and unreachable. His eyes cast to the side, not making eye contact and showing how he wanted to get out of there. Jack cleared his throat and passed a finger around the saucer.

“I want you to tell me what Tassiter does to you. The Meriff is incompetent and has some really dubious morals.” he raised an eyebrow and Rhys looked at the other, hearing the other’s voice tone and how collected it sounded. Rhys looked at Jack’s forehead and outlined the mask with his eyes “We don’t have people that deal with those issues, because,” he scoffed and looked at Rhys. “Murder happens left and right and we’re okay with it. I mean, I got where I am through it.” he rolled his eyes in a joyful manner.

“But I’m the King and I can do whatever I want when I see something I don’t like. And what I’m seeing, Rhys” his voice became low and serious. His eyes assumed a darker colour, making them gleam like marbles “I can’t excuse it. So, before I do anything, I need you to tell me _exactly what_ Tassiter did to you.” he clasped his hands and put them over the table, looking at the other “You have to tell me _everything._ ”

Rhys looked at Jack and noticed how his breath became erratic and shallow. He had to tell Jack everything Tassiter ever did to him and in detail? He had to revive those awful moments again and again?

His chest contracted and he felt his hands gripping the end of his button up. He kept his gaze low and his mind started to replay every scene of every moment he had inside that Harold’s Castle. His hands found the front of this shirt and he gripped it with force, trying to find support in anything that would make him feel secure and that would make those memories go away. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up, pushing Jack with all his strength, getting up and hitting his hip on the table, spilling tea over it.

Jack fell to the floor, bringing the chair with him. He looked at Rhys with surprise and confusion. Brown and blue wide with fear and despair to run, to go away somewhere safe, his breath was shallow and he trembled a bit, looking at Jack with guilt plastered on his face.

“I-I’m so… I’m so sorry. I di-didn’t…” he looked at the spilled tea and to Jack, bringing his shaking hands near his mouth. He had pushed the King hard enough to make him fall. He knew how he was with touching him or going against anything he did. He would die. The King would kill him because of something stupid he was afraid of say. He put his fists near his temples and his eyes unfocused as he started to suffocate.

Jack looked at the scene and got to his feet in a quick movement, going to the other and held his face, making him look at him. Thick thumbs closed Rhys’ eyelids.

“Breathe. C’mon, breathe. It’s okay. I’m not going to do anything to you. Breathe.” he got closer and Rhys let out a sob, grabbing Jack’s wrists and squeezing them, steadying himself, his non-beating heart. He tried to do as the other said, breathing quickly at first and then starting to feel more calm, breathing slowly and deeply “Good. Good.”

Jack slid his thumbs from the other’s eyes and Rhys opened them, looking at how close Jack was. Their eyes met and Jack smirked after a few seconds.

“You’re really cute, pumpkin.”

His hands went from his face to his shoulders and Rhys let go of Jack’s wrists, feeling the thick phalanxes touch his arms until they rested on his elbows, leading him back to the chair. Rhys’ eyes never leaving the King’s masked face.

“Try to calm yourself while I clean this.” He suggested and put the chair back in place, going after a cloth to clean the spilled tea.

Rhys kept looking at the King, seeing his wide shoulder move under the jacket as he looked for whatever he was looking and how the jacket’s tail moved. His hands were shaking a bit less, but he could still feel that dread rising up in his throat as he thought about what he did to Jack. He put a hand over his forehead and closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything that was not the shame he was feeling.

He then focused on how the Pumpkin King himself looked at him in the Main Hall and asked him to go to his house, taking interest in his decaying body and crooked lines. Rhys kept his eyes closed while his fingers touched the split part of his permanent smile, feeling cold flesh and exposed teeth. He remembered the slap and the shadow of what was a sting.

Rhys opened his eyes, saw the clean table, and heard running water. He remembered what was to feel pain. He blinked and a touched his split cheek again, moving index and middle finger against teeth. Eyes focused on nothing, but the scenes passing in his brain. He tried again and touched towards his lips, feeling something like a pinch. He pushed the thread a bit and his eyes widened softly as he _truly felt something_.

When Jack turned to face Rhys again, hands drying after washing the tea-soaked cloth and eyes looking for that lost gaze the doll held, he stopped at the scene unfolding in front of him.

Rhys had his finger pulling the threads in his cheeks, opening the wounds and exposing teeth. One seemed to be stuck and the doll pulled it harder, splitting flesh as he stood up and put a hand over his mouth. Jack watched everything with confusion.

Rhys looked up at the other, passing tongue between the cuts and blinking in a dazed way as if he was feeling something _good._ He closed his lips, pressing one against the other, trying to wet them, but doing nothing. And then, he started to open his mouth slowly, blinking as if he was in slow motion as his lips parted and he opened his mouth in a bizarre way, showing his rows of teeth and almost making his chin touch his own neck.

Jack kept looking at the scene and didn’t notice when he walked to the other. His fingers almost tingling to touch that wide mouth and slide the phalanges over those perfect yellowed teeth. He was near Rhys and could see the end of his throat – blueish and dry with some black splotches – and the purplish tongue. He gulped and Rhys closed his mouth slowly, touching his own cheeks.

“I’ll tell you everything I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last line I got from the song Gooey by Glass Animals because I thought it fitted really well with how the scene was going. Give the band a try and listen to their work! It's really good and I use their songs in a lot of my works lmao  
> Did you guys notice my 'In The Flesh' reference??  
> I love that series omg


	5. I'm Feeling Like a Loaded Gun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesh!! One more chapter! I'm so sorry I took this long to bring another one ;-;  
> I hope you guys are liking this as much as I'm liking to write!!
> 
> TW: rape mention/description  
> It would be good to read while listening to I'm Your Doll by FKA Twigs!  
> Have a good reading!!

Rhys kept touching his own cheeks with caution, feeling the bumps left by the threads and how far the cuts went. He would touch some sore places and lift his eyebrows, closing his eyes and opening them again, blinking fast as if shaking a weird feeling.

Jack observed the other’s moves and reactions, wanting to know what the boy was doing, and beginning to feel impatient to why he was taking so long touching his own face. He rose his eyebrows and rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Pumpkin, I don’t have all day.”

Rhys looked up as if he remembered he was in Jack’s house and shame filled his chest. He was too entranced in what he was _physically_ _feeling_ to focus on anything else. His purplish tongue passed between his lips and he looked at Jack again, resting his hands on the table.

“I was… Tassiter’s doll.” He gulped and looked down at his own nails “Am. I am.” He corrected himself “I…” he tried, but closed his mouth. The words wanting to go out, clogging his throat “He… He needed… A partner.” He didn’t meet Jack’s eyes “He needed a partner so he made one.” His voice were throaty and the words were said in a dragged way, slowed down by the new state of his mouth.

Jack kept looking at the other with a neutral expression. Rhys’ voice was low, almost a whisper, but not quite. His eyes not meeting Jack’s and the King tilted his head a bit to the left, trying to get a glimpse of the other’s irises.

“He… I remember… I remember waking up in the lab.” He finally looked up, but towards the ceiling instead. The glassy eyes looking straight up and a brown lock fell to the side “In my birth bed. I didn’t… I wasn’t there and… In the next moment, I just… opened my eyes and… The first thing I saw was a spider.” He chuckled darkly, remembering the small insect dangling in front of his eyes, almost looking curious to what Rhys was “And then I heard Tassiter’s voice.” His eyelids were half-closed as he spoke.

“He said something about me finally being alive, about having what he was waiting for years to have.” Rhys looked down at his own hands “And then he was over me.” Jack’s eyes widened “I didn’t feel it. I wasn’t… Exactly alive at that moment. I was just… I was just there.” He shrugged and blinked slowly “I didn’t have limbs. I-I had only a torso in that moment and… And he…”

Rhys laughed hollowly and fisted his hands, looking up again as if he was going to cry. His Adam’s apple bobbing and Jack’s mouth opened slightly in shock.

“I remember everything about that day.” The King could see how the doll was not mentally there with him. Disassociating to make everything easier to say, to talk about. Jack put his thumb over his lower lip and kept looking at the other, holding back any comment he wanted to make, any impulsive action he wanted to take. He kept looking at Rhys and paying attention to his words.

“You said… That he asked for two torsos.” His left hand touching the fingers of the right one, kneading the leather “One male and one female.” Jack looked at the other’s chest for a moment, remembering the Y that marked the other’s torso and noticed he didn’t look at the doll’s whole body “I think you’ve noticed I’m not… Proportional.” Rhys’ eyes landed on the King’s arm over the table, wanting to look at his face, but not doing so “He wanted a partner that could _welcome_ him.”

Jack kept his gaze on the doll, tensing his jaw as his teeth pressed against each other, helping him hold back his tongue. His mind brainstorming dealing with the new information while his free hand was fisted against his thigh, making bone slid against each other in a raspy movement. His own bizarre eyes never leaving the doll’s figure while he heard the story.

“For six years, Tassiter raped me.” He looked straight ahead “Every day. Well, most days.” He passed his eyes around the kitchen “Some days he would just let me… Let me be.” His voice broke in the last words, but he kept talking “He would lock me in my room and Hugo would watch the door as he worked in his lab.”

“The other days I would wake up with him already above me or just Hugo calling me to go Tassiter’s room. We slept in the same bed in the first couple of months, but he gave me my own room after I tried to break his fingers when he touched me under the covers. Not that it made him stop.” His leather fingers caressed his own chin. His words coming out restrained now “And then, one day, he decided that he wanted me to feel. To have tact. To feel pleasure.”

His words were followed by a hollow laugh and a lost gaze into the far greyish wall.

“These cuts” he touched his cheeks again and visibly quivered “I don’t remember why I have them, but this scar…” he touched his left temple and his fingers dove into the brown locks. Digits feeling the bumps of the tissue and the softness of it “He tied me to the birth bed and opened my head.” He closed his eyes “At first I didn’t feel a thing, I couldn’t. But then… Then he touched somewhere... And…” he gulped and frowned “I felt pleasure for the first time. I… Something inside my chest and my stomach. A second of something good filled my body and it was gone.”

Rhys looked up, glassy eyes lost on the high ceiling, moving from side to side, focused on the memories of an alien feeling that didn’t stay long enough to be missed when gone. A small smile tugging on the edges of his lips, fusing with the deep cuts that split his cheeks.

Then, the shadow of that smile was gone and his eyes dropped to the table, looking at nothing.

“I remember the sound of Hugo helping him clean the scissors and tweezers, metal against metal, electric energy crackling and…” his hands covered his face and Jack would swear he saw Rhys shrink “I started to feel. I felt… I felt his… His hands on my head and… And the pain of having it split open… I fel- I cried for him to stop touching me. I trashed and turned, but he didn’t stop.” Rhys sobbed, “He gave me pleasure for a fraction of a second and then he gave me minutes of immeasurable pain.” He fisted his hair and pulled it a bit, shaking “He climbed on the birth bed and raped me again. With my head opened and Hugo watching. I… In…” he looked up and met Jack’s eyes, seeing the black sclera glim “For the first time I felt what he was doing to me.”

The air felt heavy as Rhys stopped talking and let his hands cover his face again. He took a deep breath, seeming to think about nothing as Jack kept looking at him while trying to understand everything he was told.

He knew how Tassiter was. Knew his antics and his odd behaviour, destructive and always on a high horse, but he never took him for a rapist. Six years passed in front of Jack’s eyes as he thought about the many situations he went to the other’s Castle to ask for some lab equipment or to look at a new project being done. The times he went into that pristine room and didn’t give much attention to the metal bed on the far corner, covered by a thin white blanket. Jack thought about the times he wanted to reach and snap the other’s neck for saying something stupid or passive-aggressive about his position in Halloween Town.

Jack wanted to kill Tassiter.

“He did all of this… While bound to a wheelchair?” Jack raised an eyebrow and Rhys put the leather hand on his own forehead, shaking his head in denial.

“He did it for six years, like I said. Then the Oogie Boogie incident happened and he’s being in a wheelchair since then.” The doll looked up and inhaled deeply, sighing.

Jack looked at the other and licked his own tinted lips, flexing the phalanges of the hand that rested on the table. His bizarre eyes roaming over the other’s features, analysing the cuts and scars, wanting to ask why he didn’t run away already, why he kept living with Tassiter after everything he ever done to him, but Jack knew better than that. He knew what it was like to feel incapacitated, as if your will meant nothing to the others around you.

Jack sighed and scratched his brow bone, looking at his own lap. He looked up again and got up, putting his hands together in front of his body.

“Get up. I’m going to sew your cuts again.” He didn’t wait for Rhys to answer and headed out of the kitchen, footsteps echoing against the floor.

Rhys got up and walked behind the King, watching his wide back as they went down the hall and up the stairs. The chandelier sending reflections everywhere, making Rhys look at the object and almost misstep. He stopped at the head of the stairs and kept looking at the blindness beauty of the chandelier, feeling it burn his retina, but he didn’t want to look away. Jack’s steps were fading in the background and Rhys closed his eyes, still feeling the burning sensation against his eyelids as he forced himself to let go of the railing and go after Jack.

How must it be to walk around the house and have such beautiful thing illuminating everything around you? Rhys asked himself. How must it be to wake up in a good bed, knowing that nothing would harm you in any way?

He opened his eyes, black spots floating in front of them, and saw Jack opening a door and enter. The light coming from inside the room filled the hallway and Rhys walked to it, stopping just at the edge of the pouring light. He looked down and saw the point of his shoes being touched by the brightness. Something inside of him turned over – maybe his stomach – and he stepped into the light almost in slow motion, watching as his body was covered in brightness.

“Rhys.”

He looked inside the room and the light bathed Jack from behind, covering his face in darkness and making an aura around his body. Rhys could feel his eyes watering, but he knew it was just a ghost feeling he was already used to. His leather hand touched the doorjamb and, for a split second, he felt like he had encountered what old books called God.

 Jack kept looking at Rhys, seeing the awe in his eyes. The brown one glowing such as whiskey in sunlight while the blue one shone bright and freakish. The King rested his hand on the chair and tilted his head softly to the direction of it, watching as the doll entered the room with cautiousness, lowing his gaze as he neared the skeleton. Rhys sat on the chair and Jack leaned in, observing the cuts.

“I won’t sew it like it was before.” He looked at the table nearby and grabbed the curved needle inside a drawer “It was two long threads. Imma make some stitches and it will look cleaner.” he turned Rhys’ head a bit to the side and touched his cheekbone softly, seeing the other’s eyelids fluster “Prettier. As you should be.” He almost whispered, “Hold you jaw for me.”

Rhys looked to the other side, not wanting to meet the King’s eyes. He couldn’t understand why he could feel the cuts and only the cuts, but he didn’t want to think any longer on why that was happening. He decided to focus on the small pinches he felt when the curved metal passed on the old holes in his face, receiving new thread and stitches. Stitches made by the King himself.

He held his jaw trying not to shiver with the proximity, with Jack’s hot breath on his face and the bones touching his skin. Rhys decided to look up, knowing that the other would be concentrated on the task, and lied his eyes on the mask that covered the King’s face.

The mask was painted akin to a skull, black and white. Over the lips, there were drawn teeth with pointy canines, giving Jack a feral smirk, showing he could bite you and make you bleed. Black paint around his eyes, looking so real that Rhys felt the urge to touch them, the cheekbones and the jaw well drawn and shadowed. What Jack’s face looked like under the mask was a mystery to every citizen of Halloween Town.

Some speculated that he looked far too bizarre and it would kill with fright whoever had even a glimpse of his true face, being left with only corpses to rule. Other whispered how he was truly good-looking behind the skull-like mask, not wanting to be outcast for not fitting the looks of the city. Rhys heard that, maybe, Jack had a disfigured face or he really was a human passing as a skeleton to not die on Halloween.

Whatever was the truth, Rhys could not take his eyes away from the mask, from the man in front of him, from his King. He analysed the roots of his hair, seeing some white ones and how the locks were well brushed and coifed. Rhys saw brownish skin that looked warm and met with black ink on his neck, disappearing under the white collar.

He looked down as much as he could and looked at the other’s chest and waist, seeing the way the coat hugged his figure and marked his waist. Jack was broad shoulders and thin waist, showing his physique. Rhys could almost see the ribs being marked, his fingers itching to touch the other.

Rhys closed his eyes and gulped, remaining still while the needle went in and out of his skin, stitching it together again.

The left side was done and Jack passed to the right, touching the cold skin with carefulness, pinching it with the needle and knotting with dexterity. He analysed the other’s face while doing the procedure and couldn’t not notice the small details about his features. The roots where each hair strand was fixed in, the deepness of the scar and the other seam that went down his left eye.

He also noticed how that seam wasn’t as rough as the ones in Rhys’ mouth. He made the last stitch and cut the thread, leaning back and raising the other’s chin so he could evaluate what he’s done. The work looked clean and the skin wasn’t being pulled like before – the split part were cut and it made Rhys’ smile a bit crooked. Jack gave a satisfactory smile and looked around himself, reaching for a mirror that was the size of his ribcage, holding it in front of Rhys.

“Take a look, _doll_.”

Rhys looked at the mirror and held a surprised gasp, bringing his hands over to his mouth. The stitches looked clean and soft, not too near the corner of his lips. He touched the cuts with both hands and closed his eyes, wanting to have his tact back just to feel what was like to have stitches made with carefulness. Just to feel what was like to have good attention directed at him.

He opened his eyes and looked up; meeting Jack’s mismatched ones and smiled, looking back to the mirror.

“Thank you, Jack.” He whispered and Jack tilted his head, putting the mirror aside near the table. He went back near Rhys, touched his chin, leaning in, and put the other hand behind his own back.

“I am the King, pumpkin. And a King’s job is to take care of his people.” Jack leaned forward a bit more and his index slid on the brunette’s neck “But different from other Kings… I want something in return, darling.”

Rhys had hooded eyes and parted lips, feeling the way the King’s eyes were on him and only him; how he touched his neck and talked to him with a soothing voice. Without noticing, he reached for the other’s coat and something warm spread inside him as his fingers closed around the pin striped fabric.

“Wh-what is it, my King?” his voice came out without him knowing how; he did not thought he would be able to talk with Jack so close to him as he was. Rhys felt a small pinch inside his head and one of his legs tensed up by itself, but he didn’t pay attention as he just wanted to look at the blue and green that bled into the black.

Bizarre, cold black that engulfed Rhys’ senses and brought him closer to the man that held his neck with firm tenderness.

“I want you to kill Tassiter for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack, you can't just ask people stuff like that out of the blue!!!  
> The plot thickens so much and we getting near the end of the first arc (there's two if you guys want to know)!!  
> Please, leave a comment telling what you thought about this chapter and what you think it's going to happen!!  
> Have a nice week, guys!! <3


	6. Let Me Inside You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember wanting to end this fic by Halloween and christmas is just around the corner... Time passes too fast omg  
> I hope you guys like this chapter as much as I liked writing it!!  
> The vibe of this chapter is kinda Let Me Inside You by Oomph! but I don't recommend listening to it while reading because it's too loud? Just read the lyrics and enjoy the feeling of weird feelings LMAO
> 
> TW: Gore/Blood

His eyes kept focused on nowhere specific as his mind worked over the words that were said to him. His long fingers against his mouth, no sound around him; he was alone. Jack had gone out, leaving Rhys to his own thoughts over the matter of what was asked from him.

To kill Tassiter? To kill the man who had brought him to life? Without Tassiter, Rhys would never exist, would never be alive; but he would not have gone through what the scientist did to him during so many years. He would not feel numb to pain as he was now.

And why Jack would not take the matter in his own hands and kill Tassiter himself? Why would he ask Rhys to do that? Maybe he wanted Rhys to fight back? Why would he care about some useless doll that only purpose was to please and serve the man that brought him to life? Why did he want Tassiter dead?

A million questions started to roam in his mind and he shook his head, putting the flesh hand over his forehead. Jack was invading his mind and opening doors that Rhys was not certain if he had the guts to look inside.

He looked to his side and saw his reflection in the mirror. The seams so carefully made, hugging the flesh and making his face cleaner. His fingers travelled over those and he closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the King’s touch, the softness of the act over his flesh.

 _Beautiful creature,_ Jack called him earlier. He smiled softly and looked away, getting up and started to walk. The sunlight against his back while he walked out of the room and went into the dark hallway. The house was silent, being possible to hear a pin being dropped as Rhys walked to the stairs and went to the front door, stopping just to look at the chandelier one last time.

His eyes focused on the beauty that was the crystals dangling and reflecting the light casted upon each one of them. Rhys wanted that beauty burned against his retina and brain as he emptied his mind and walked away from the King’s house, hearing the street band playing a sad melody that accompanied him during his path to his own home.

 

 

Jack walked to the Public Library with his hands on his back and fighting back a smirk. He left the kid at his house, all alone, to think about what he demanded him to do. He remembered the way his eyes widened after the words sank in and how lost he looked while Jack leaned away and said that he needed to meet Timothy.

He went out of the house feeling his cheeks hurt from holding back the creepy smile that wanted to make presence. Now, climbing the stairs to the library, he let the smile appear as he greeted the librarian that held a book in his claws and gave Jack no attention whatsoever.

His footsteps echoing as he walked between the shelves, looking around for Timothy. He stopped near the shelves that had a _Holidays_ sign above them and turned his head, getting a glimpse of a baby blue silhouette. He walked to the other and got down in one knee, putting his hands on it.

“Hi, TimTams. What did you find?” his voice was above a whisper.

The ghost looked to Jack and sighed, making a movement so the zombie beside him stopped passing the pages and stood still. Timothy looked at the King and tilted his head to the sides.

“Some weird stuff about decorations and the origins of Sandy Cla- Santa Claus. His name is Santa Claus.” he sighed again and put a hand over his own cheek “It’s really strange stuff, Jack. We don’t have much information about that place and I had to get many books just to understand some basics!” he whined “Like, this one!” he pointed to a thick red book “I didn’t know what was a gingerbread man and had to look it up and it looks nasty. And houses of gingerbread. And milk. Ew.”

“So…?”

“We have almost nothing. Maybe some experiments over Tassiter’s lab would be good to understand the complexity of some things.” Timothy relaxed his posture, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees “Could you ask him to lend his lab or some equipment to us?”

Jack looked at the ghost and tilted his head to the side, smiling softly at the other. A teasing softly smile. A smile that Timothy found odd.

“Of course, TimTams. I can ask to have the _whole_ lab just for us. Later I’ll pass by there and have a talk to ol’ Tassiter.” he got up and put his hands on his waist, giving the books a last look “Hey, you.” he addressed the zombie and yellowed eyes looked up, meeting his mismatched ones “Get all these books and deliver them to Tassiter’s Castle by tomorrow morning.”

The zombie made an acknowledgment noise and started to put the books together in a pile at his own pace. Timothy observed their movements and scratched behind his ear, looking at Jack again.

“Tomorrow morning, Jack? How are you so sure he will let you use the lab?” the ghost let his fingers dive into his nape hair and frowned at the King.

Jack smiled as if he was hiding a secret.

“Just trust me, baby. I can get whatever I want, remember. I’m the goddamn King.” he chuckled and Timothy raised an eyebrow, thinking how Jack’s behaviour was odd. He got up and stood by Jack, crossing his arms.

“And where is the doll you went home with?”

“Well, you see, Timothy, me and that cute legged doll _chatted_ a bit.” he laughed when Timothy’s expression changed to disgust as he whispered ‘Gross’ “And I came to meet you and talk about whatever we need to talk like the books and the survey team and all that jazz, yaknow.” he shrugged.

The ghost kept looking at the other, not wanting to think about what Jack really meant by ‘chatting’. He rolled his eyes and tilted his head a bit to the right.

“Don’t you think it was a bad move?” he looked down at the other’s pin striped pants and saw how his stance changed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… That boy is Tassiter’s doll after all…” he trailed off and looked up, receiving a dismissive look from the other as if Jack said ‘so what’. Timothy’s eyes widened a bit before he frowned again “You know…” he moved his shoulders, looking at Jack, hoping the other would understand what he was talking about.

“Know what?” he raised an eyebrow and his upper lip in a tedious expression, showing purple gum and canine. Timothy rolled his eyes and stepped closer to the other, crossing his arms. Maybe Jack had forgotten.

“The last person that touched Rhys, Tassiter cut the boy’s face, remember?” he looked at Jack’s eyes and saw a sliver of shock passing by them “… You didn’t know about this?” he frowned and Jack turned his face to the side “How come you don’t know this? The whole town knows.” he asked, surprised by Jack not knowing about the shock that took over the town when the whispers about Tassiter’s actions spread and lasted a whole month.

“...” he opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, feeling a pinch on his cheek, under the mask. He blinked and moved his hand in a dismissive way “I have no time for gossips, Timothy!” he turned his back and put his hands behind his back “Let’s go home and decide who’ll be part of the survey team. We need to make the announcement as soon as possible.” he started walking, leaving the ghost behind “I’ll pass by Tassiter’s later.”

Timothy looked at Jack and followed him, thinking how he was acting weird. He caught up to him and started to talk about the information he found.

So the reason Rhys’ cheeks were like that was out of jealousy. Jack started to think about the outcomes of what he had asked of the boy and the visit he would be paying later that night. He glanced towards the Tassiter’s Castle and brushed his single silver lock back, hearing Timothy start to talk.

Jack couldn’t believe his own luck.

 

 

Rhys stopped near the castle’s gate and ran his tongue over his lips, remembering that he had left Tassiter unconscious before going out. Would he kill Tassiter just like Jack had asked or he would ignore the King’s demand and keep living the way he was used to? His mind going back and forth over the encounter he had with Jack as his flesh leather fingers picked at his nails.

His eyes unfocused for a second, but he shook his head, opening the gate as silently as he could, closing it behind him and climbed the few stone stairs to the front door. He looked at the front windows, noticing the lights were still off even if he had passed by the guy that turned on the street lamps and the sun was already setting behind the dry leafless trees.

Rhys opened the door, looking around and not seeing anyone. He entered and closed the heavy door, being careful with the sound of the lock being turned. When he got closer to the kitchen’s door, something heavy landed on the side of his head and Rhys lost balance, falling to the ground. He looked up and met Hugo looking straight at him with a vase in hands.

“Why aren’t you in your room?” the deep voice cut the air and Rhys shivered, trying to sit.

“Hug-” before he could say the other’s name, Hugo hit him again, landing it on his cheek.

“Where were you, Rhys? You obsolete doll! You do nothing but bring worry to this house!” he landed two more hits on Rhys head, seeing the brown locks misplaced, the small bruises that flourished on his temple “Why do you keep doing this, you little shit? You always poison Tassiter and run away! Where were you this time?!”

Rhys tensed his jaw, starting to get up. Hugo had hit him with quite the force, making something inside his head click and he could _feel_ the tingling and pulsing of the bruises. He turned his head, looking at the other and saw how his eyes were reddish and his hair was not brushed back as usual. Rhys smelt alcohol.

“Were you drinking again, Hugo…?”

“I’m the one who asks the questions here!” he raised the vase again and Rhys blocked his face, receiving a hit on his leather arm “You were whoring out there, weren’t you? I bet.” he spat each word “Trying to get that asshole’s attention. Like he would ever look at such ugly thing.” His lips were glowing because of saliva.

Rhys lowered his eyes at his own hands, seeing the flesh one forming a fist. He listened to those words being spat at him as if he was a dog, as if he was nothing. He had no doubts that Hugo saw him as such.

“Such a horrendous creature as yourself… A broken doll that has no utility. Should’ve been thrown away.” He stepped closer to the brunette and kicked his ribs twice before putting his foot over the other’s nape “Should’ve made Tassiter cut your face even more.” He forced his foot down and Rhys’ forehead almost touched the ground. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, tensing his shoulders.

_A beautiful creature._

He opened his eyes and almost roared as his leather arm reached for Hugo’s leg and gripped it tight, pulling it hard enough for him to fall. He saw the other’s surprised expression as his back hit the floor and, in a swift movement, Rhys was on top of Hugo, stranding him.

He bared his teeth, feeling rage building inside him as he looked at the other’s dark eyes. Surprise covered despise, but soon was replaced with ire as Hugo too bared his teeth and hit Rhys’ face with the vase again, hearing a loud cracking noise.

With the force of the hit, Rhys’ head turned to the other side. His cheek tingling and he had to close his eyes, praying that the stitches didn’t split. He touched his own neck and felt a stitch or two that were torn apart and he opened his eyes, seeing the orange sun through the window.

He was torn between many feelings. Hugo had hit him hard enough to make his brain to start to work in favour of his nerve endings, making him finally feel something. The tingle of the bruises, the pulse of whatever was happening inside of him in that moment. He was _feeling_ and that alone was making his chest swell.

But Hugo called him broken and horrendous. He reached within Rhys wounds and twisted his fingers, making him clench teeth and snarl. Jack called him beautiful, treated his wounds and redid his stitches, taking care of his broken body. Hugo would never understand that. Rhys didn’t need to do anything special so the King would notice him. He just needed to exist.

Rhys’ leather hand fisted Hugo’s shirt and the deep cut on the brunette’s face gleamed against the orange sunlight as he looked at the other.

“The thing of being a broken doll, Hugo” he snarled and his flesh hand reached for the vase, pulling it from the other’s shaky hand “is that I can’t feel a thing.” He lied.

Without thinking, he landed the vase on Hugo’s head, seeing what real blood looked like. He landed hit after hit on the other’s face; his mind empty as metal smashed against flesh and bone. He stopped when there was only Hugo’s wheezing filling the room. Rhys’ leather hand slid to the other’s neck and he remembered that black sclera looking at him. Beautiful green and blue bleeding into black as a soothing deep voice growled.

_Kill him._

Legs kicking and nails scratching as Rhys pushed harder against Hugo’s windpipe, blocking the air, seeing the reddish eyes bulging as his tongue swelling. The man tried to reach his face, but Rhys leaned back, pressing his fingers deep into the flesh and as the last breath escaped Hugo’s mouth, a light was turned on in the second floor.

“…Rhys? Hu… Hugo?”

Tassiter’s tired voice echoed and Rhys’ looked up without turning his head. He got up and silently walked to the kitchen just as Tassiter’s wheelchair descended the ramp.

The old man pushed a button and the wheelchair stopped in the middle of the ramp. Before him laid a body with a bloodied head, unrecognizable face but clearly Hugo. Blood splatter on the walls and on the cream carpet, soaking the fabric with a deep red. The vase was laying by Hugo’s smashed head.

Tassiter put a hand on his mouth and looked around, seeing the last rays of sunlight illuminate the inside of the house.

“Rhys?” he pushed another button and moved the joystick to the side, reaching the end of the ramp and started to head towards the light switch “Rhys, is okay if it’s you. I won’t blame you, doll.” He tried to talk his way out as he moved in a slow pace towards the switch so the mechanic sound of his chair wasn’t so loud.

He wanted to punish Rhys for poisoning him again with that damn soup of his, but finding Hugo’s bloodied body in the middle of the living room made him try another approach. The assistant had a fixation with alcoholic beverages, reeking of alcohol most of the time, and tended to get violent or too handsy. Maybe Hugo tried to touch Rhys _again_ and the boy snapped. If he was the one who killed Hugo, Tassiter had no doubts he would be next.

It was almost as if timed.

The sun disappeared behind the horizon, bringing the darkness with it at the same time that a sharp knife gleamed under its last yellow rays, piercing flesh and splattering blood against the switch. Tassiter screamed as his hand was cut open and he could not see who was doing it. Sweat rolled down his temples and nape as a hand reached behind his wheelchair and pulled him to the ground with so much force, he landed on his side, rolling a bit.

His glasses flung from his face as the dark greeted him and the smell of blood filled his nostrils. His hand hurt and burned as he pawned the floor after his glasses. After founding and putting them back, he clenched his hand against his chest. Suddenly, there was light and Tassiter froze, gathering all his courage to look behind him only to see brown and blue looking straight at him.

Bloodied spectacles framed Rhys’ body as he held one of the biggest knifes they had in the house. The knife was the size of Rhys’ forearm, usually used to clean the fishes he bought for meals or cut the bigger beefs. The metal gleamed like Rhys’ eyes should do, but those looked empty, dull. His hair was tousled, bloodied shirt with buttons missing, those being ripped out by Hugo, small scratches on his forearms and face, and a big open cut on his right cheekbone.

“Rh-rhys.” He called after the other and saw him grip the knife harder “Doll, it’s okay. I wo-won’t punish you. It’s okay. Hugo wasn’t the best pe-person… I don’t blame you.”

Rhys tilted his head a bit to the side and looked down, raising the knife at eye level, looking at the shiny metal. He remembered the crystal chandelier in Jack’s house and the warm feeling it provided. A small smile tugged in his lips and a drop of Hugo’s blood that landed on his face ran down his cheek.

Tassiter kept looking at Rhys, seeing that smile and he frowned, not really knowing it. He analysed the other’s face and, with trembling hands, he fixed his glasses on his nose bridge.

“Who… Who made those stitches?” he asked in a raspy voice, swallowing saliva. He could see each stitch holding the flesh together without squeezing it; the sides of his mouth were free and spread in a big smile. Dull eyes looking at the shiny metal of the knife.

“My King.”

A shiver ran down Tassiter’s spine and he couldn’t help but scoff at those words, bleeding hand against his chest.

“King. King. That idiot that you all call King is nothing but a damn psychopath. A fraud!” he snarled, “He’s not even from this town! One day he appeared and everyone started worshipping him! You too!” he shook his head “I thought I had made you perfectly, but clearly you’re as brainless as the rest of this shitty town!”

The brunette looked at the scientist and tilted his head to the side. He gave a step forward and saw the other tense under his gaze. A breathy chuckle escaped his mouth and Rhys rolled his eyes in a teasing manner.

“I just chose to follow our true leader.” He blinked slowly “A leader that treats his people with love and tenderness.” He reached his face with his flesh hand and touched the stitches, feeling – _he could feel ­_ – the small bumps of the threads, sighing dreamily “That cares for his people.” he looked up and blinked in a dazed way “That cares about me.”

“Your infatuation with him is disgusting! A human _whoring_ for the attention of a _Fucking hybrid_.” he spat on the floor and the knife almost slipped from Rhys’ fingers.

He remembered Jack talking about his past and mentioned that Tassiter had made him feel less of a being for being half-breed. He thought he had finally understood why Jack wanted Tassiter dead. He frowned and gritted his teeth, walking towards the old man and stopping near him.

“Disgusting is what you did to me during all those years. Disgusting is how they'll call the scene after I’ve had finished with you.” he remembered Jack’s buckle boots and kicked Tassiter’s face, seeing the glasses land near Hugo’s body. He got down in one knee and saw Tassiter’s face go pale as he put the knife’s blade against his cheek “Jack was the one who brought my body parts to you.”

Rhys saw realization and fear hit Tassiter before he craved the knife in his lower abdomen, a bit to the left, hearing the scream that cut through the air. He pulled the knife out and stabbed him again, putting weight in the object and sinking it deeper within the other’s guts. Blood poured out of his mouth and stained his crooked teeth as Rhys stabbed him twice more before stranding his waist, damping his pants in blood. He let go of the knife’s handle and put a firm finger on top of it, moving it slightly from side to side as the blood ran down from the deep cuts.

“Remember when you used to put me on this position?” Rhys’ deep voice sounded like a growl as he whispered; cold sweat on the scientist’s face and neck “On top of you, arms tied behind my back.” The leather hand traced his Adam pome and Tassiter gurgled blood once more, “Now that I think about it, I’ve always felt something when you would rape me.” He put his flesh hand near the other’s hand and leaned in “I felt hate.”

His yellow hand gripped Tassiter’s chin and cheeks with a clawing motion, wanting to make him squirm by the sheer force of the grip. He opened the other’s mouth and sat forward, almost on his chest, sticking his bloodied fingers inside it as a wicked glow consumed his eyes.

He forced his way through teeth and tongue as the other used what was left of his strength to try to get Rhys off him, clawing his arms and splitting some threads on the flesh and leather. The doll inclined forward and felt something crack around his fist as tears poured out of Tassiter’s eyes.

“How does it feel to have someone inside you without you wanting it, doctor?” he talked as if nothing was happening. His voice uneven “It hurts, right?” he looked at him through hooded eyes and forced his fist again. It slid down the other’s throat as the cartilage rings of the esophagus snapped around his forearm and Tassiter stopped moving under him.

Rhys took a deep breath and opened his hand inside the tube, moving the fingers. He felt overwhelmed as how hot and wet it was inside. He closed his eyes and slightly twisted his hand, sliding his forearm till the elbow inside the other’s mouth. He opened his eyes and pulled his arm in a smooth motion, putting the back of his leather hand against his nose, looking at the corpse under him.

He trembled a bit and got up, going to the light switch, pawning at the wall as his eyes didn’t leave the scene. His fingers felt sticky and he brushed his hair out of his eyes as he finally found the switch and turned off the lights.

The ruby blood looked black under the blue moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE U GUYS GOT MY HANNIBAL REFERENCES i love that tv series so good love mads love hugh love hannibal  
> How are your holidays going, guys?! Mine are kinda odd feeling, but free time is free time! I hope you liked this chapter and tell me what you think about the end of it! Rhys kinda overdid himself, huh?
> 
> Happy Holidays, guys!!


	7. Only Then I Am Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOO! Hi! I'm really sorry for the waiting! >_<  
> This chapter was a friggin' pain in the ass to write and I started to get so annoyed with it that I wouldn't even want to look at it.  
> So, now we are starting the New Arc of the story!! The Oogie Boogie Arc! <3  
> I wanted to finish writing this fic soon so I can focus in some other projects I have in mind and one, which I'm currently working on, so I started to write longer chapters. BUT I didn't want to let you guys waiting so much, so I had do split this one. You guys are lucky bc it's not the part in which I'm stuck in LMAO  
> I hope you are prepared for a lot of gore, some weird shit, some weird "sexy" shit, more references and sometimes some Jackothy IDK  
> Hope you guys like this chapter!!

The smell of fried meat filled the air as Jack and Timothy looked through a file at the dinner table. Timothy sat over the dark wood, reading the names aloud along with the information under each of them while Jack folded his own sleeves till the elbows.

They arrived home and Jack claimed to be hungry, going to the kitchen to make something for him to eat. Timothy followed and sat atop the table, looking as the other grabbed pans and ingredients around the kitchen. While the meat fried, Jack went after the files so they could look through them together.

Jack sat at the table and started to eat, listening to Timothy reading the information. When the end of a page came, he would put the knife on the plate and turn the page for the ghost. It would be something that happened automatically for both of them. Timothy liked to read, but couldn’t touch anything and during a period of time, he would just look at the books Jack had as if remembering what was like to hold a book.

The King got tired of watching the other mopping around the house, sighing while he tried to concentrate on the papers of the Halloweens to come. So he decided that when he was in the office, Timothy could be with him that he would turn the pages for him. And that became routine for both.

Jack had in mind to ask Tassiter for a machine that would do the job, commanded by voice alone, but now whom would he ask? He remembered hearing someone mentioning about a new scientist coming to town…

“Jack.”

Jack looked up and saw the ghost looking at him.

“Are you listening?” he tilted his head and the King moved his eyebrows in a dismissive manner, ignoring the way those freckles glowed.

“Of course, Tim.” He cut another piece of the meat and started to chew it “But I didn’t catch the name. Who are you talking about?”

“Of course you were listening…” he mumbled and shook his head “Her name is Maya. She lives kinda far away from here, but with a call, she could be here in a day, I think.” He pointed to the photo of a blue haired woman and Jack looked better at her file.

He analysed her photo, seeing how her eyes had a certain glow and a smirk hidden behind the neutral face littered with what seemed scales around her cheekbones. She had a thick necklace around her long neck that seemed full of a purple liquid and Jack’s eyes looked for her species, widening as he read the letters.

“No. I don’t like her. I don’t like any of them.” He closed the files and put them far away from his own reach, going back to eating as Timothy looked at him with shock.

“What? She had a great profile! Her reputation is good and-“

“I said no, Timothy!” he hissed, the cutlery glistening under the light as Jack slammed his hand on the table. The ghost lowered his gaze and the skeleton clenched his fists “I already have some people in mind.”

Timothy looked at the other again and saw Jack’s thick wrists with the pitch-black ink that covered some of his flesh. Sometimes, Timothy sat with Jack in their bedroom and listened to the other whisper about his tattoos; how he got the ink to be the perfect black and how it hurt to get everything covered. They would talk until Jack’s eyelids got heavy and sleep came to him; the ghost would stay awake most of the time, guarding his sleep and thinking about everything the other told him.

Those moments with Jack proved to him that the other was more than what he let show.

“Who?” Jack stayed silent for a moment, the fork spreading rice around the plate, scratching the porcelain. His shoulders were tensed and his phalanges seemed to be massaging his forehead “Jack? Who do you have in mind?”

“Purple’s kids.” He mumbled.

Timothy’s eyes widened and he kneeled over the table, ducking his head to try to look at the other’s eyes. Jack leaned back and turned his head away; he seemed annoyed, but looked back at the ghost. Shocked baby blue eyes were facing him.

“Purple’s kids?” he frowned in concern “Do I need to remind you that those kids were the ones responsible for what happened to your face?” he inquired.

Jack sighed and moved his hands in front of his face, making Timothy go backwards.

“Get out of my face, Timothy! I’m trying to have supper!” he growled and let out a heavy breath “I know who they are and what they’ve done. Especially what they’ve done to me.” He tilted his head and clicked his tongue “But they’re good. My face is proof of that.” He sounded weary “That’s why… If they screw up in this important thing, concerning the whole town, it’s just one more reason to kill them.” He opened his hands and held the fork again.

Timothy got off the table and floated to near the window, looking sceptically to his King.

“You hate FireHawk, Jack.” He stated and Jack let go of the fork once again. He looked up, seeing the greyish ceiling and got up, passing his tongue around his teeth and sighed heavily.

“I hate her, that’s true. I hate her and her sidekicks. I hate them with all my being.” He put his hands over the table and looked at his almost empty plate “But they’re a good team and they will bring Sandy Claws-“

“Santa Claus.”

“ _Santa Claus_ or whatever the _fuck_ his name is…” he looked at Timothy with a frown “They’ll bring him to me.” He started to walk in Tim’s direction and moved his hands “And when they finish this job” he smirked “I’ll off them so fast, they won’t even know what happened.”

The ghost leaned away from Jack for a moment, but kept eye contact, thinking about what he said. Jack was right about that team being good, even though they made him suffer in the past. Timothy was just afraid something bad could happen to his King in that plan of his.

“… Ok, Jack. You’re the boss.” He looked down and heard the other chuckle as he went back to the table “I’ll send someone to their house tomorrow.” He crossed his arms “Just promise you’ll be careful around them.”

Jack passed by him and smiled before putting the plate and cutlery in the sink.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, TimTams. I’m already dead, babe!” he laughed and approached the other, moving his hands around the ghost’s cheeks “Ah, I wish you were flesh and bones so I could pinch those cute little cheeks, hm! You’re so damn cute worrying about me, TimTams!” he laughed and automatically tried to pet the other’s chest, passing right through him “Force of habit.”

Timothy was sure his face assumed a deeper blue, but he scoffed and moved his hands in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

“Well, baby, I wanted to go talk to Tassiter to see if he could lend us the lab - I mean, of course he would do that - but” He laughed in a way that made Timothy look at the other with doubt “I’m tired as hell. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, I’ll go there.” He smiled at the other “A hot bath and a good night sleep are calling for me.” He sang and walked out of the kitchen; his steps echoing in the house.

“Jack, it's not even 7 yet!” he yelled and the King started to whistle, making the ghost roll his eyes.

Since Timothy met Jack at the library, he noticed how the other was acting odd when the matter was Tassiter’s lab. Timothy knew it had to do with what Rhys and Jack talked during that evening. But he wanted to see where that was going.

 

 

Rhys sat on the sofa and kept looking at the two corpses in front of him. The smell of blood was strong and he was sure he had some on his hair. His flesh hand was clammy and he could feel it shaking a bit.

He could feel.

Rhys got up and went to the window, opening it and letting the cold air enter. He closed his eyes and felt it lick his skin and make his lips tremble. He’s been deprived of that kind of sensation for so long he didn’t know how much he yearned for it. Brown and blue looked up, meeting the deep blue sky above him. An imposing full moon calling his name as the wind once again kissed his features. The blood smell got stronger.

The brunette looked behind him and closed the window, walking back to Tassiter’s corpse. He lifted the wheelchair, held the corpse in his arms and put it back on it, pushing it through the kitchen and to the backyard.

Sometime later, he came back to the living room and dragged Hugo’s body to the backyard as well.

The house went dead quiet. A deafening silence spread between the floorboards, the wall stones and into the rooms. The quietude that engulfed the inside of the house lasted long enough that the town clock struck eight hours and Rhys opened the back door with his foot, holding a bag over his shoulder - almost his own size - and passed through the kitchen and the living room, going up the ramp.

Rhys just stopped to think what truly happened when the clock struck one in the morning. His limbs were numb from carrying stuff around and he was sure there were dried blood under his nails. He brushed his hair back and looked up at the moon from the balcony in Tassiter’s room. The cold wind hugged his body and Rhys closed his eyes, being embraced by the ghost feeling of tears coming to his eyes.

He opened his eyes and went back inside, closing the balcony’s door.

 

 

Jack's eyes still heavy with sleep looked around, meeting thin rays of light that passed between the curtains. He turned under the covers and saw the baby blue glow near him, making a smile appear on his face.

When Timothy slept - something that always slip out of Jack's mind - his body tuned down some shades, making him hard to see from a certain distance. Jack tightened his grip on the blanket and kept looking at the other; observing the freckles and soft features.

Was he truly what he could have been if he weren't like this? Could he have been something pure like the image that Timothy passed? He wish he could touch the other and feel if there were any warmth in him.

Sometimes he felt bad for being so mean with the ghost, but then he would noticed that he was really good to him if compared to how he treated the others. And Timothy was his partner. He was someone to whom Jack would tell everything about himself and, even if he couldn't touch, he would stay by his side, supporting him.

In the darkness of the room, Jack tried - as he had tried many times before - touch Timothy's hand. It was a weird feeling that spread on his palm. As if diving his hand in liquid smoke. He brought his hand closer and closer his eyes, turning around. A tear threatened to fall down, but he wiped it off, not caring about the harshness that his sensible skin suffered.

Jack thought about the emptiness he had been feeling and how Timothy’s presence may have influenced it. Jack finally had someone to be intimate with, to talk about what he was feeling, but they could not touch. He missed the warm embrace of others or just the sheer presence of his peers. Since he became King, he was nothing more than that. A metaphorical powerful figure that no one could reach; too far away from anyone.

He had Timothy, but he was alone.

Jack got up, wrapping his arms around himself and walked to the bathroom. The clarity was almost blinding as he opened the door and walked to the bathtub. The water started to fill the black tub and Jack stood in front of the mirror. The image of himself was something he thought would always haunt him.

He leaned forward and touched his sensitive face. The skin was soft and pinkish, full of scars and sensitive to the touch. His right eye was completely white, blind and in need of constant lubrication. The aftermath of the Oogie Boogie incident was still vivid in his memory. Every morning he would be reminded of his nearly death experience and how much it costed him.

After his morning routine were complete, he got out of the bathroom and went to his closet to get dressed. Timothy was still in bed, almost melting over the covers. Jack buttoned his pants and walked to the bed, tilting his head to the side, observing the ghost. The features so similar to his, but at the same time so different and unique. He finished buttoning his shirt and crouched, putting his arms on the bed’s edge, laying his head on them.

“I always forget you can sleep.” He whispered and, even though he knew he couldn’t touch the other, he reached over and traced Timothy’s cheekbone and jawline “I’ll let you sleep.” He sighed and got up, going out of the room and closing the door.

He headed to the kitchen to make breakfast and checked what time it was on a clock near the threshold. It was clearly too early, but bright enough to run the morning chores and his errands. After eating some green eggs and ham, he went back to the bedroom and put his mask on, leaving a note for Timothy, saying that he was going to Tassiter’s Castle and he would come back later, and went out the house.

During his walk to the castle, hands in his pockets, he passed by some citizens that smiled gently and greeted him. The day started kinda stuffy, so Jack decided to go out without his coat, with rolled up sleeves, a waistcoat and no tie. Black skin visible for the whole town to see.

He would smile almost in autopilot as his mind was focused on Rhys. Would he be greeted by Tassiter himself or by the doll? Jack passed his fingers through his locks and stopped in front of the gate, looking up and seeing that the lab’s window was open.

Jack opened the gate and walked to the door, trying to hold back his eager smile as he pressed the doorbell. He could hear the footsteps approaching the door and it was clear that it wasn’t Tassiter, but could be that weird assistant of his, Hugo. The guy reeked of alcohol and thought he had some kind of intimacy with Jack. But when the door opened, Jack was not ready for was on the other side of it.

“Jack!” he smiled and opened his arms, giving him enough space “It’s such a great honour to have you here so early! Please, do come in!” he put a hand over his chest.

Jack frowned, looking at the man in front of him and his body acted without him noticing, walking to the inside of the castle. A strong smell hit his nose and he sniffed visibly making Rhys chuckle.

Rhys’ hair was brushed back with a couple of small locks dangling on his forehead. He was wearing a deep red button up with long sleeves, a black tie and a black vest. Long pants that hugged his legs in the right places and a pair of black polished shoes. To top it all, an eyepatch over his blue eye. His demeanour was completely different. He was talking with confidence. As if, he owned the place.

“You did it.” Jack couldn’t control his own mouth as realization hit him. His eyes widened and a smile spread on his face “You fucking did it, kid.” He almost whispered and Rhys moved his eyebrows in a surprised way, blinking a few times. Jack grabbed the other’s arms with eagerness and Rhys saw his eyes glow “Where is the body? How did you do it? Did he scream, cry? Did you make him _suffer?_ ”

Rhys chuckled at the childlike curiosity of the other and put a hand over his own mouth, hiding his smile.

“Please, Jack. You’re wrinkling my shirt.” He tilted his head and Jack, in a moment of confusion, let go “Did you have breakfast? I can make you some coffee. I have some amazing grounds in the pantry. They came all the way from the south. I don’t know if they’re tasty, but I see people drink it all the time so!” he opened a wide smile.

Jack tilted his head, finding the other’s behaviour weird. Where was the shy doll that cried in his kitchen; that had no presence whatsoever? He couldn’t formulate a sentence as he was still trying to understand the smile on the other’s face.

“Jack?” Rhys called for him and put his hands together in front of his chest “Jack, are you listening to me?”

“What is it with the eyepatch?” was the first thing that came out of his mouth and he didn’t even know why.

“Oh! This?” he smiled and his fingers lingered on the black leather over his left eye “I had a… Small accident with it yesterday. I prefer it to be covered.” The smile never leaving his lips “Now, please.” He directed to the kitchen “If you may, I would like to make you a cup of coffee.”

The brunette didn’t wait for an answer this time and headed to the kitchen. Jack frowned and watched the other walk away. He put a hand over his forehead and started to walk to the other room, having a bad feeling about all that.

His footsteps echoed on the room and he stopped at the kitchen’s door, looking to the floor. His memory was reassuring him that the living room wasn’t that noisy the last times he walked there. Jack put a hand on his chin and lifted an eyebrow, not certain what was missing, but let go, entering the kitchen.

Rhys was already at the stove, lightning the fire. It was a simple four-burner wood-stove. Jack sat at the table and crossed his arms over it, looking at the brunette’s back. He noticed how their roles had been inverted in less than 24 hours. What had happened since he last saw Rhys until that very moment?

“It just takes a moment for the water to boil. But the grounds seem fantastic!” he looked over his shoulder and walked to Jack with a pot in hands. He opened it and smiled more “Here. Take one.”

Jack looked into the small pot and a strong smell hit his nose as he reached for the dark grounds, grabbing a few between his fingers. They felt smooth and were hard. Jack looked up and Rhys were far away from him; the sound of the mortar and pestle reaching his ears.

“Pumpkin, you seem different from yesterday.” He left the beans on the table “What you did to Tassiter really stroke a chord somewhere in there, hn?” he teased and Rhys stopped moving. Rhys’ cold laugh crippled down Jack’s spine.

“I stroke a chord in Tassiter if we’re being honest.” he resumed his movements and Jack frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Rhys kept silent as he continued to smash the grounds. Jack just looked at Rhys, waiting for an answer and getting none. He crossed his arms, watching the other’s back and decided on analyse him. Where did he get those clothes? He were dressed in nothing but patchworked clothes the day before. He was sure that Rhys was someone he could easily manipulate, but seeing him now… Jack was the one being pulled into a puzzle.

They stayed in silence as Rhys brewed coffee. The smell of the coffee and the sound of the water hitting the end of the bottle filled the room. Soon there was a teacup in front of Jack and Rhys sat in front of him, smiling.

“You won’t tell me?” Jack asked, looking into the black drink.

Rhys kept looking at Jack, who didn’t know if there were a smile in the other’s face or just the illusion created by the cuts. The King noticed the other wouldn’t talk and sighed, taking a sip of the beverage. Strong bitterness filled his mouth and he cringed, putting a hand over his eyes.

“I stabbed him.”

Jack looked up and swallow the coffee, feeling the bitterness go down his throat, worsening as time passed.

“I mean… I slid my arm into his throat after stabbing him. Something broke inside there and he stopped breathing.” he shrugged, looking past Jack “And killed Hugo too. I think I didn’t need to, but he came at me first.” Rhys chuckled “I mean, he was responsible for this.” He indicated the cuts on his face.

Jack was shocked. The image of Rhys with his arm inside Tassiter’s mouth was disturbing. He also remembered Timothy saying how the scientist cut the doll’s face because someone else had touched him. The pieces in the puzzle were coming closer to a full picture.

“You mean…?”

“Yes, Hugo tried to rape me once, but Tassiter saw and cut my face! Something about ‘ _such a pretty face welcomes others too well. Something must be done about it’_ or whatever. I went through his notes last night. He wrote so much shit about me. Fucking creep.” He rolled his eyes, but soon his features softened “But it’s okay now. He’s dead.”

Jack opened his mouth, but couldn’t say a thing, so he closed it. His thoughts were going too fast, trying to fit each piece in its exact place, forming a bizarre scene that himself was responsible for making. He licked his lips and adjusted his folded sleeves, looking at the other and smiled, reaching for Rhys’ hands, touching them over the table.

“Tell me _everything_ , my doll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO WHAT DID YOU GUYS THOUGHT ABOUT THE HELLBOY REFERENCE?  
> New characters are coming into the story and the plot KEEPS THICKENING im tired of this thickening omg stop pls why i do this to myself  
> And Handsome Rhys appeared!! I wanted to write him so so so bad!! <3  
> I really liked how he turned out!  
> I'm trying my best, but I dont't know when the next chapter is coming bc it's really hard to write this one and it's almost tme to go back to uni omg i dont want to e_e  
> But yeah education or whatever  
> Hope you guys are having great holidays!!  
> See you next chapter!!


	8. One, Two, Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the waiting!  
> Here is chapter 8 and new characters appearing!  
> The plot comes back (i think)!

Jack listened to Rhys telling the events of the night before. How he was unsure about the situation and that he wanted to wait a few moments more to think it over, but arriving at home Hugo gave him no time. He killed the assistant because he snapped after many things the other had said.

“I sat on top of him and hit him many times.” He whispered, never tearing his eyes from the skeleton “On the head.” His hand hovered over his own forehead “But he was still breathing, so I strangl- Choked him?” he frowned and Jack chuckled.

“The word you’re looking for is strangled.” he helped.

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No, no, Rhysie. Choking is something you do when you eat too fast.” Rhys lifted an eyebrow in confusion “What you did last night, as you crushed Wallethead’s windpipe, is actually referred to as strangling.” He explained, smiling “Trust me.”

“Oh!” he nodded and smiled again, “I would never doubt you, my King.” He assured him and Jack felt his chest tighten. Jack felt sick when thinking that he had a whole town devoted only to him, but it seemed like something he could appreciate when coming from the doll.

“Finish your story, pumpkin.” He took another sip of the coffee and pouted when swallowing it. _So bitter_.

“Sure, sure, but… Wallethead?” he leaned forward and Jack’s widened as he scoffed.

“Hugo’s _dear_ nickname!” he laughed and put his hand on his chin “Before becoming King, I went to so many bars, kiddo, and Hugo used to go to those as well. He didn’t have all that hair, yakow. He was a baldy with a really weird flop right here.” He touched the top of his head “When he passed out, everyone in the bar would throw coins at him, trying to put them there!” he laughed and wiped a metaphorical tear “Good times.”

Rhys smile was awkward, but he was happy to see his King laughing like that. He remembered the day in the cemetery, when Jack sounded so depressed. Maybe Christmas was going to be something that would bring joy to his King and their little town.

Jack had a satisfied grin on his face as he landed his eyes on Rhys again. Remembering old times, when things were simpler for him, always made him lighter in the chest. Seeing the doll smiling and looking so softly at him was something new, which made his already light mood become lighter. Rhys was focused on his face, tracing each feature with his eyes, as if he wanted Jack’s face engraved against his eyelids.

The Skeleton was quick and tensed his hold on the other’s hand, smiling a bit more sweetly. The doll seemed to shrink and his other hand covered his mouth,

“Pumpkin. The rest of the story.” He cautiously leaned forward and brought the yellow hand to near his tinted lips. Jack closed his eyes and kissed the back of the leather, hearing a whimper coming from the other. He leaned away and chuckled, looking at him.

Rhys’ was sure he would be blushing if he had any running blood in him. He licked his lips and gave the other a small smile.

“Do you want more coffee?” he chuckled as Jack scowled and put his tongue out “I’m sorry. Maybe I did something wrong.” He put his flesh hand again his chest and Jack shrugged.

“Tell me the end of the story and I’ll forgive you.” He joked and Rhys nodded.

While Rhys told Jack how Tassiter’s blood damped the carpet and how his hand slid smoothly inside the scientist’s throat grey clouds hid the sky, being brought by a cold wind. Rhys got up – not missing a beat while describing what he felt during the murder – and closed the windows in the kitchen.

“I was overwhelmed, you see. The last time I felt something was before the Oogie Boogie incident. After that, he would constantly electrocute me so I could change my behaviour.” He crossed his arms, looking at the grey clouds “I got serious brain damage from that sessions and stopped feeling physically. Until yesterday.” He closed his eyes and smiled wickedly “Is getting cold, don’t you think?” he opened his eyes “Would you care to accompany me to the study room, Jack? There’s a _fine_ fireplace there.”

Jack found the other’s attitude odd. The day before, the King would ask him to tell a story and he would – in a dissociative sense, but nonetheless he obeyed. In that moment, Jack notice the tone in Rhys’ voice, the way he walked and occupied the space around him. The clothes he wore, the eyepatch, his mannerisms… His everything changed. He was not the doll he met the day before.

Rhys put his hands behind his back and walked up the ramp, being followed by Jack. While they headed to the second floor, the skeleton looked at the floor below and noticed that the carpets were missing, living the floor bare. He looked at Rhys’ back and he could feel his phalanges tingle as that endorsed Rhys’ kill.

The brunette opened the second door to the left and an open room was presented to Jack. He looked around, noticing the mahogany that engulfed the room in a fancy bubble so different from the world outside. The bookshelves in the opposite wall, each shelf packed with books, living no empty spaces. There were a small couch with red velvet cushion and polished dark wood as its fancy legs, facing two chairs of the same material and a small coffee table between them.

In the far corner there was a table with lose papers and sketchbooks on it. A small round table with liquors and other alcoholic drinks stood against the other corner of the room. There were only one window with heavy red drapes around it.

The fireplace – in the middle of the bookshelves – had a painting of two skeletons embracing each other while one kissed the other’s cheek; flowers surrounded them in dark colours as the skulls each held a shadow of bliss on their bare grey bones.

Jack looked at the painting and felt his eyes water, making him look away. Rhys kneeled near the fireplace, a smile in his rich voice.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He used the poker to move the firewood and lighted a match, throwing it between the blackened wood “It kinda makes me think that even after death, we can find love.”

“…I’ve never seen it before.” He pointed out and Rhys got up, standing by Jack’s side, tilting his head.

“I think you might never have visited this room, my King. It’s where Tassiter used to write his notes and plot whatever he would do to me next.” He moved his fingers in a dismissive manner and rolled his eyes “I wasn’t allowed here, so I sneaked in in the middle of the night to read. The moonlight sometimes is brighter than the sun, don’t you think?”

Jack tore his gaze from the painting and looked at the other. He felt his mouth dry as he looked at the brunette. His eyelids fluttered and his throat was as if clogged.

“What happened to you, doll?” Jack whispered.

Rhys looked at his King and smiled with devotion.

“You, my King. You showed me the path to be myself.” He fully turned to Jack and grabbed his hands, bringing them to his mouth and kissing his fingers “And I’ll forever be grateful for that.” He was sure he would blush if he could. Baring his feelings for the main target of his devotion made his core tremble.

Jack’s mouth fell slightly a gap without him noticing; he didn’t break eye contact. The wood started to crackle and Jack was suddenly aware of his movements, noticing how close he was from the other. Rhys’ body trembled against his own as his hands found place on the brunette’s waist. He felt a bit annoyed, as he needed to stand on his tiptoes to reach the other’s mouth.

A slight touch at the beginning, his hands going up, feeling the softness of Rhys’ clothes, and touched his neck, holding his head in place and bringing him down just enough so he didn’t need to stay on his tiptoes. Rhys let a moan escape, as he finally dug his fingers on Jack’s back, feeling the ribs hidden by the shirt.

For how long did he want to touch those bumps under the coat, feel each rib under his fingers? Rhys would never have guessed that, one day, he would be in the arms of his Pumpkin King, holding him so close. He sighed and let the other lead, opening his mouth to receive the King’s tongue, kissing him deeply.

Rhys whimpered around tongues, feeling his stomach turn in an unknown sensation. He was aware of every place Jack touched him: behind the neck, under the jaw, around the waist, the small of the back. While the doll could only hold him to not fall to his knees. Suddenly, Rhys’ legs shook and he gave a small moan, sensing his groin getting warm. Jack chuckled because of the sounds the other was making.

When they parted, Rhys’ could still feel his lips numb. A tingling sensation that he would cherish close to his heart as the first good thing with a meaning to him. He smiled, still too close to the King and chuckled, tightening his hold on his waistcoat.

Lips caressed each other as hands didn’t let go, trying to extend the moment. Jack opened his eyes and tilted his head to the side, lining the other’s jaw in a slow motion with his index.

“What a beautiful creature you are.”

To Rhys those words meant the world. The Pumpkin King, Jack, called him a _beautiful_ even after seeing him in his nudity, just seams and stitches forming a patchwork doll that lived a useless life. Jack called him beautiful after he confessed what he did to Tassiter and Hugo; and even accepted his true self. To Rhys, Jack deserve everything that led him to the throne of Halloween Town.

He smiled and held Jack’s hand on his face, kissing his palm in absolute devotion.

“Kiddo, I would love to keep kissing these pretty lips, but I need to go back home. I came to say that I need to use your lab to some experiments.” He said “And to check on Tassiter issue, obviously.” He commented between teeth and chuckled as the doll nodded a few times.

“Of course you can use it, Jack. I didn’t think about that room yet. Maybe I’ll rent it.” He shrugged and loose his grip on the other’s waistcoat, making small circles there, feeling the ribs as his fingers moved.

“That’s a good idea, pumpkin. There’s a scientist coming to town, I’ve heard.” Jack didn’t seem to mind the motion of Rhys’ fingers on his back, looking at Rhys and talking to him normally. His own hands landing on the other’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze, before sliding to his biceps. He glanced at the fireplace.

“It’s going to rain. Why don’t you stay here and wait for it to pass?” he heard Rhys’ smooth voice near his ear and focused on the other again.

“It’s not raining yet, I can go back home.” He assured and Rhys dug his fingers on Jack’s waistcoat again, bringing him closer.

“It will rain, Jack.” He smiled in a sort of feverish way and his eye glinted. Jack noticed the other’s tone and frowned slightly, but soon the sound of rain hitting the window glass filled his ears. He didn’t tear his eyes from the other for a fraction of second as Rhys leaned again and covered Jack’s mouth with his. Jack felt his whole body tingle with the happening, but he closed his eyes and returned the kiss.

 

 

Timothy sluggish opened his eyes, blinking each in its own pace, rolling his eyes back as he stretched. He sat on the bed and rubbed off the rest of the sleep from his eyes, feeling his mouth dry as he took his time to wake up.

Ghosts weren’t known to be able to sleep as usual beings would; they tend to go into a state of nothingness, disappearing during odd and random hours to come back completely revitalized. However, Timothy wasn’t like the other ghosts in Halloween Town, white cold fog that float above your head while you walked down the street; Timothy had a physical form that didn’t waver nor disappeared even if tired. He needed to lie down and sleep like flesh beings and would wake up just after fully rested.

No one understood what Timothy really was, not even Timothy himself.

He looked around the room and saw the darkness of it be broken by small rays of light coming from behind the thick curtains. Jack’s side of the bed were empty and the bathroom door was ajar – something that annoyed Timothy. Why couldn’t Jack close the door?! Timothy couldn’t touch physical objects so the wind would keep moving the door, besides the bright light that came from there annoyed him. Sometimes Timothy thought that Jack did things like that on purpose.

He sat on the bed and saw a yellow note on the nightstand. He leaned over it and read Jack’s horrible handwriting that said he went to Tassiter’s Castle to check on the lab issue and he would come home later. Timothy sighed and looked at the bed again, patting the mattress with carefulness to no phase through it. With closed eyes, he took a deep breath and got up, letting the bed undone. He had no time nor desire to delve in his thoughts about his relationship with the King.

He went to the kitchen and rolled his eyes as he got a glimpse of dirty dishes in the sink. Timothy put his hands on his face and sighed, looking up. Why Jack did what he did was something that got on the ghost’s nerves. He would often ask Jack why he did not hire maids to clean the house, to wash the dishes and keep his home – _their home –_ in order; and the same amount of times Timothy asked that, Jack would answer the same thing; that he didn’t want strangers in his house.

Timothy crossed his arms and turned his head, looking at the files on top of the table. He had to go talk with the survey group before Jack got back. He went to the window and looked to the sky, seeing the grey clouds slide themselves over the town.

Timothy passed his fingers on his hair and walked away from the window, walking through the wall, down the garden and through the stone fence; heading towards the woods. The black crocked trees surrounded him as he took each step towards the home of the people who hurt his Jack. He floated to the top of the hill and stopped, looking at the landscape ahead.

In the distance, he could see the pumpkin camp near the cemetery, the vastness of infertile land that separated it from the crocked house some meters from the ghost. A wide whole in the ground, filled with white fog – _ghosts? -_ And in the middle of it, rising from its thick roots there was a tree. Its dried branches, twisted in unbelievable curves, crowned the desolate landscape, at the same time that they give the basis to an odd, near-falling house. The eerie structure could only be entered through a sole elevator: an iron cage hanging menacingly above the abyss.

He looked at the house with weary eyes, seeing an open window, which indicated someone was inside. Why would Jack decide on choosing the team that almost killed him in cold blood to survey one of the most important things in his life? He knew the King had his eccentricities and it wasn’t always that he would share his thoughts with the ghost, so Timothy would doubt the skeleton’s choices most of the time due to uncertainty, but follow them nonetheless.

Timothy got near the cage and looked at it with a raised eyebrow, thinking how the big one of the kids fit inside it when accompanied by the others. He crossed his arms, floated to the open window, giving a look inside, and saw the bright red hair of FireHawk. He sighed and passed through the wall just as a thunder filled the air and lightning stroke the sky.

“A GHOST!”

Timothy turned quick to see who was yelling just so he could scream as a big pan descended on his head, making Tim close his eyes in anticipation for the pain. When the hit didn’t come he opened one eye and peeked around, blinking as the behemoth of man passed the pan through Timothy in a swing motion non-stop.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a ghost.” He chuckled, relieved and put a hand on his head.

“Oh, my Hells. What are you even doing here, ghost?”

Timothy looked behind him and FireHawk was standing near a couch, hands on her hips and a disgusting look on her face. Her golden eyes never leaving Timothy, making the ghost uneasy.

FireHawk was looking at Timothy as if just his presence offended her greatly. She was wearing what Timothy considered pyjamas. A black baggy shirt that made her look smaller, hiding most of her blue marks and torn shorts that covered half of her thighs, but let the blue descend freely on her left leg. Around her scaled neck, there were a small collar with a deep purple liquid in it.

“I… Uh… Jack sent me to ta- Can you stop doing this?” he looked again at the man that was still passing the pan through his torso, “It’s uncomfortable, ok? Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.” His voice was hoarse and he raised his hands in defence, putting the pan back on the small wood-stove and closed the window as rain started to pour. Timothy looked back at FireHawk and crossed his arms, opening his mouth to say more, but she was quicker.

“Jack sent you here? What does that bastard wants from us? Another round?” her upper lip lifted a bit and reddish gum appeared along with two sharp teeth.

“No.” the ghost turned his eyes away. She looked just like Maya from the file they looked last night, same species, he thought, maybe that’s why Jack didn’t want to hire Maya? But then, why would he hire FireHawk? “You must’ve heard of his plan to take over Christmas Town.”

She hummed and looked up, putting a hand on her chin, and pretending to be thinking.

“I don’t know… Maybe we’ve heard about it, but… We’re not ‘ _part of the society’_ as your _beloved_ King said the last time we met, so maybe we haven’t.” she smiled provocatively and Timothy took a deep breath “But why? It must be something really important for his own Private Ghost come talk to us.” She folded her hands in front of her body.

Timothy knew it wasn’t going to be easy to talk to them and wasn’t fazed by her teasing, just tired. He took a few steps close to her and big golden eyes seemed to glow.

“He wants you to kidnap Santa Claus so it’s easier to invade the town.” He explained and the woman tilted her head, walking through the blue being.

“Slab, where is Reaver? He’s taking too long in the woods.” Slab shrugged and went back to cooking whatever was frying on the pan. Timothy leaned to the side and saw a dead crow on top of the table, ready to be rid of its feather and cleaned to cook. A pumpkin without its top and big spoon inside of it was resting near the crow.

He fidget with his hands, waiting for an answer.

“So?” he pressed the matter and noticed the sound of the rain outside.

“I can see him!” FireHawk exclaimed and put a long red nail on the window “He’s all soaked!” she barked a laugh and Timothy saw her teeth gleam against the light that filled the room. She ignored the ghost completely as she walked along the room and passed through Timothy again, making him bare his teeth. It was uncomfortable when people did that! He could feel his body being made smoke to then go back together to his form.

“I need your answer, FireHawk!” he raised his voice at the same time a tiny bell ringed in the right corner of the room. Her slim fingers held a lever on the floor and she pulled it, making the chain work and an opening on the floor open so the cage entered the room.

Inside of it were a man with dreadlocks pulled on a low ponytail, orange googles on his eyes and a soaked bird on his shoulder.

“I didn’t think it would rain so much. I thought it was going to be just a drizzle.” He rushed past Timothy and opened a door that led to another room. Timothy was stupefied, as the three of them seemed unfazed that he was there with an important task to offer them. FireHawk pulled the lever again and the cage descended, closing the opening and walked to the couch again, sitting on it.

The ghost kept standing in the middle of the room as Slab walked from one side of the other in the kitchen, sliding a knife on a knife-grinder, FireHawk was picking on her nails and Reaver was in the other room doing whatever. Timothy crossed his arms and cleaned his throat, regaining the siren’s attention.

“You’re still here?”

“…” Timothy put both hands on his face and dragged the nails down on it “I. Need. Your. Answer.”

FireHawk blinked in an uninterested way and took a deep breath, looking at her nails again.

“Reaver! Come listen to this!” she smirked “The King wants our services!” she looked at Timothy again and mocked, “He wants us to kidnap someone!” she turned her head and Reaver came from the other room without the bird on his shoulder.

“The King wants us?” he moved his head to the side and waved a hand. His accent heavy, indicating that he came from the south “How much he’ll pay?”

At least, this one was willing to talk.

“We haven’t talk prices yet, but I’m sure he’ll pay plenty for this job. It’s very important to the future of the town, so it needs to be done carefully.” He recommended and jumped slightly at a loud sound coming from the kitchen. He looked at Slab and saw the cleaver resting on the table near the crow’s cut legs.

“Just… Pass by to talk to him. He would appreciate that.” He sighed and looked at Reaver again.

The room went silent for a while as Reaver and FireHawk seemed to evaluate the offer as Slab made noises in the kitchen. The sound of the rain mixed with the crackling of the fire of wood-stove and Timothy was getting anxious watching the both mercenaries exchanging looks between them.

“So…?”

Reaver moved his mouth in a weird way and FireHawk sighed and shrugged one shoulder.

“We’ll take it. But we won’t go near his house in a million years, Ghost. Tell him to send the contract by tonight and no funny business.” She lifted her eyebrow and got up off the couch “We melted his face once, we can finish the job.” She threatened, but Timothy didn’t tore his eyes from hers.

“Thank you. I’ll be leaving now and the contract will come by supper time.” He thanked them with a tired nod and descended through the floor.

FireHawk put a hand on her mouth and slid it to her long neck, caressing her collar. The warmness of it calming her mind.

“Do you think it is a trap?” Slab talked for the first time regarding the matter; his thick fingers pulling the crow’s feather with a kind roughness.

“I don’t know, but let’s avoid any direct contact with him.” The siren lied lazily on the couch and put a hand under her shirt, scratching her side “We should have killed him when we had the chance. Just deforming him wasn’t enough.”

“Oogie Boogie wouldn’t let us do that, remember?” Reaver sighed and got near Slab, cleaning the table so it wasn’t so clustered. FireHawk gave a look at the medium-sized pipe that led to the hole under their house. She picked at the skin on her lower lip and her eyes roamed over the masks on the walls. Teeth, glowing eyes, crocked smiles and long noses made each mask different and terrifying.

She got up and grabbed an orange one in hands. Holes that looked like an angry stare looked back at her as yellowed pointy teeth smiled in a hunger way.

“Kidnap Santa Claus…” she pondered and put the mask back on the wall, thinking, “How would we do it?” her eyes darted to a black spot on the wall and she noticed it to be a cockroach. She crossed her arms and walked back to the other two.

“Together.” Reaver said and gave a small smile.

“Three of a kind.” Slab grabbed three plates and put them on the table, filling each with scrambled green eggs, fat pieces of bat sausage and rotten tomatoes.

“Birds of a feather.” FireHawk smiled as she sat at the table, lifting a fork as the other two looked at her with the same joy on their faces.

“Now and forever!” the three chanted and chuckled. Slab put the lid over the small cauldron and cleaned his hands on a piece of cloth, sitting with the others. They started to eat and the siren waved her fork.

“But how would we do it? A cage? Put some bait in it and then close the gate?” she inquired around a mouthful of eggs. Reaver hummed in response, moving his eyebrows in a thoughtful moment.

“Let’s throw him inside a box.” He started, grabbing the other’s attention “Bury him for some years then see if he talks.”

“I say we take a cannon and aim it at his door, we knock three times, he answers and Santa Claus will be no more!” Slab shrugged and got up, taking the jar of pumpkin juice to the table and sat again.

“Slab! If we blow him up to smithereens, we may lose some pieces! Jack will not pay us for it!” FireHawk stabbed his hand with the fork and he yelped, spitting some of the sausage on the floor.

“We’ll have to get him and beat the shit out of him! Maybe let him rest in the train rails something like that. A good scare never hurt no one.” Reaver said and then a deep sound, like a mythical demon talking through riddles, reverberated from the pipe that led to the underground.

The three of them looked at the pipe as if Oogie Boogie himself were in the room with them. He sure was listening to their conversation.

“I think he is interested.” Slab whispered while rubbing his hand “Do you think he’ll want Santa Claus?”

“I think he’s just hungry. Throw the crows to him.” FireHawk pointed with the fork to the dead crows tied together on the corner of the kitchen.

Slab got up and grabbed the birds by their feet, walking to the pipe and opened the small gate, putting the bodies inside it and let them slide down it. And then they waited in silence.

The tension was very much present as they waited to the sound of rain and crackling wood. Suddenly, after a few minutes, the pipe shook with force as something was sent back, landing on their floor. A purple goo lied on top of the already stained carpet. A few bones and feather could be spotted in the middle of it.

“It’s your turn to clean it, Reaver.” Slab said as he closed the pipe.

“Maybe if we give Santa Claus to him instead to Jack, he’ll reward us.” Reaver said as he got up to get the cleaning set.

FireHawk stopped eating as she heard that statement and her throat felt clogged. Her eyes were focused on the plate, green eggs almost finished along with the sausages. She could feel her collar get warmer. She was indeed in need of more…

“I mean, we are his henchmen, wanting it or not. And staying on his good side is the best for us.” The hunter kept talking as he cleaned the carpet “And maybe he’ll even make some of that snake and spider stew we like.” He chuckled.

“Maybe we should.”

FireHawk put a hand on her chin, resisting the urge to feel the warmth of the collar under her palm.

“We defeated Jack once, we do not have to be afraid of him.” The hairs on her nape stood up “But Oogie Boogie is the meanest guy around. We should stay on _his_ good side; screw the King.” She pondered and the two boys listened, agreeing with her. They knew what Purple could do to someone, they’ve seen him in action and none wanted to be the target of his means.

“How about we do this” she started talking again, “We put a present to his door and wait for him to open the door. Reaver will shoot him with that tranquilizer to big animals and we bring him home until we decide what really to do with him.”

“Then I need to clean the back room. No one will listen if he screams.” The hunter finished cleaning the carpet and sat at the table again, “Slab can even hit him with that stick.” He chuckled and Slab widened his eyes with gusto. The stick with rusty nails on the tip was Slab’s favourite.

“Great! Then so be it!” she exclaimed and raised her cup, being followed by the other two. They toasted and went back to eat, a comfortable silence filling the house.

“Lil” Slab broke the silence and his friends looked at him “we forgot to ask if he wants him dead or alive.”

FireHawk moved her head to the side, putting her hands under her chin and gave him a condescending smile.

“He’ll send the contract tonight. There must be something about it. If there isn’t, well…” Her golden eyes gleamed “He didn’t specify.”

 

Under the house, under the roots and the fog – _ghosts? –_ there were movement of feet on the metal ground. Purple light sparkling against the form that passed calmly on the room. The big belly bounced and a smile crept on the white mask, long fingers caressing the plate of its own abdomen.

“ _Santa Claus…_ ” the words lingered in the air “ _And the King… Great…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think?  
> Adapting songs to conversation is really HARD  
> Why Jack didn't want to contract Maya, but contracted Lilith instead?  
> Questions questions questions  
> Chapter 9 is on the make and I hope you guys have a great week!!


	9. Build a Shrine (inside of you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> I'm SO SO SO SORRY for taking this long to post!! The end of my semester was shitty at uni and I didn't have time to write!  
> But here it is!  
> [drums ruffling]  
> THE SMUT  
> I'm so sorry, this is the necrophilia part. Like, both are alive but Rhys is basically dead so that's why the ??? in the tag  
> idk what im doing im sorry

Jack didn’t understand very well how they ended up like that. The rain turned into a storm, making the windows shake and the water drops hit the glass with force. Rhys kissed him like a lifeline, groping and pulling him closer, traveling his hands on his back, seeming like he wanted to tear his clothes with nails alone.

He was rough with his movements and Jack corresponded, trying to gain dominance again, but failing, as the other seemed to be in some sort of daze as he pushed him to the sofa.

Jack didn’t have time to think as Rhys sat on his lap, straddling him. Hands holding his head in place as they kissed, body weighting heavenly on the other’s lap. Broad hands reached down and held Rhys’ hips, helping him move on top of his clothed crotch, enjoying the delicious shock waves going up his stomach.

Rhys leaned away, giving space so Jack could nibble and kiss the seam that connected body and head, tasting the cold skin. He started to pull the shirt out of the other’s pants, lifting it enough so his fingers could meet the torso, searching for nothing in specific, just wanting more skin on skin contact.

Rhys felt his crotch get warmer as Jack’s mouth followed a path from under his ear to the seam on his neck. Rhys fisted his hands on the other’s hair, feeling those large hands bringing him closer, rutting against his clothed crotch, making him feel the hardness under him.

Suddenly, he felt something go between the threads and gasped, scratching Jack’s neck when a bolt of arousal made him hump the other a bit harder and throw his head to the opposite side. Jack’s tongue entered between loose thread and was licking the inside of the wound. Green and blue looked up, trying to see the Doll’s face as he made a movement of in and out with his tongue, feeling the boy shiver under his hands.

After leaning away, he left a kiss on the small wound and rested his back against the couch. Rhys looked at him and bit his lower lip, having a dazed eye directed to Jack. His long fingers dove into the brown locks, gripping them with force as he mashed their mouths together again, going back to grinding against the other’s cock.

Jack thought that the eagerness of the boy was cute, but he was starting to get too rough and, maybe, given by the open dazed eyes that looked at him, he was sinking into that weird trance of his.

Jack leaned back and held Rhys’ neck with quite force, squeezing just enough to make him stop trying to kiss him again. Jack licked his own tinted lips and held Rhys’ neck with both hands, caressing his Adam’s apple with his thumbs.

“Pumpkin… We’re not doing this if you’re not present. Nothing of going into this state of yours, ok?” he whispered and Rhys didn’t seemed to listen, just kept his eyes locked on the other.

Jack sighed and gave a light slap on the other’s cheek.

“Rhysie… Pumpkin.” He tried again “Doll.” He called in a velvety whisper “I need you here with me… C’mon, Doll. Your King wants you here.” He wanted to laugh because of his words. His thumb travelled to Rhys’ lips and he saw him close his eyes, put his tongue out and suck on his finger, sliding his palms on his biceps.

“Jack.” He whispered back and Jack gave a smirk, nodding and brought the other’s face closer by pulling his neck with care not to lose more the threads.

“Yeah, baby…” he chuckled before the kiss and between their mouths, kissing the other open-mouthed, gasping as his cock brushed against the other’s crotch again.

Rhys felt his head light by all the overwhelming sensations flooding his senses. Jack’s tongue inside his mouth was making him almost whimper by the sheer pleasure coming from a single kiss. The broad hands on his hips, helping him move in the right way, keeping the hardness flush against his clothed folds. The room felt hot and Rhys needed to breath or to be touched more, he didn’t understand what was happening inside his body.

He leaned away, red lips coated with saliva, and took a deep breath, grinding hard against the King’s lap, making Jack shiver and tighten his grip on his hips. He looked down, seeing the tent in his pants and tapped the other’s thighs.

“Get up and take your pants off, darling.” he would never get tired of seeing Rhys obey him as fast as he always did.

As the Doll got up, Jack unbuttoned his own pants, freeing his cock and spreading his legs. He fisted his shaft a few times, getting comfortable and looked up, seeing long legs in front of him. Legs that made the other disproportionally tall, lacking in the thigh department and with dark hair between them. Jack licked his lips and followed the showing skin that the open shirt allowed to see. The big Y ending in the seam that connected hips and bluish torso.

Rhys was bizarrely arousing.

“C’mere.” Jack held his hand out to the other and touched his hips again as soon as Rhys sat on his lap. Cold skin against warm, sweating one. Their lips met again and Jack caressed his thighs, scratching his ass and going up the weird shaped hips again. The temperature of the Doll always reminding him that the other was only a Doll and not a natural living being like him.

Even with that constant reminding, he still got surprised when his fingers tried to go deep between Rhys’ folds and they met resistance. He looked down and Rhys put a hand over his chest, following the other’s gaze.

“Jack…?”

Jack took a deep breath and looked at him.

“You still with me, right, pumpkin?” he looked at Rhys’ face and he nodded, biting his lower lip “You’re fucking dry.” He cussed and put a hand over his face, leaning against the couch “I can’t fuck you dry like that.” He groaned already feeling his arousal going away.

“Tassiter always did it like that.” Rhys said and Jack looked at him with a mix of anger and disgust. How could the other say something like that?! Jack wanted to have sex with the Doll, but wouldn’t do it in that way. Rhys seemed to get what the other was thinking and looked away.

Jack rolled his eyes and passed his tongue on the interior of his cheek, eyes fixed on the Y on the other’s chest. He looked down and moved his fingers between the dark pubes, putting them away from what he wanted to see. With his tongue against the front of his teeth, in a pout, he moved the pubes away and saw the blue, almost green, clit. He looked at the other’s face and passed his finger over that point, adding a bit of pressure and Rhys looked at him in an alarmed way, reaching for support on his shoulder.

Jack smirked and tried again, massaging it. Rhys gasped and curved his back, fisting the other’s shirt and shivering.

“I had a great idea.” He chuckled and looked to his side, putting the cushions against the end of the couch and lied down, resting his head on them and Rhys on top of him. He smirked and saw the confusion on the other’s face “You’ll have full control, Doll, _but_ following my lead, of course.” His dick was hard against the weight of the other and he groaned, “Just do as daddy says, pumpkin.”

His hands were flush against Rhys’ hips and his thumbs reached to his folds, parting them again.

“Sit on top of it.” He bit his lips and Rhys obeyed, sliding his body against the side of Jack’s cock, gasping as his clit slid against warm skin “Keep it like that, babe…”

Rhys did as always and obeyed, moving against the throbbing skin under him, supporting his weight on his hands that stood open palmed against Jack’s chest. His back curved with each move of his body, giving him an odd feeling that build up inside him, demanding that he moved faster and faster to gain friction. The bolts of arousal going up and down his spine, raising small hairs on his body and drool flood his mouth.

He could hear Jack panting under him, the nails of the phalanges digging on his ass and the heart that beat under his palms, reminding him that that was his real living King giving this type of pleasure to him. Rhys bit his lip and drool escaped, rolling down his chin and neck as his hands found better support on the couch arm.

Rhys stopped for a moment and caught his breath, moving his hips slowly over Jack’s cockhead and he hissed, moaning as their eyes met.

“ _Fuck, doll…”_

Rhys felt his interior throb and the drool dripped from his chin to Jack’s chest.

“So-som’thin’… Comin’…” the brunette moaned and passed his clit against the cockhead again, going back to grind against the other’s shaft “I-is… Is this…” he bit his lip, letting a deep moan escape and frowned.

“An orgasm. Y-yeah, babe… That’s an orgasm.” Jack chuckled and sat, putting his hand on Rhys’ nape and squeezed, reaching down with his other hand and started to rub his cold clit, feeling each shiver, delighting himself in every moan that went through those red bitten lips “Come for me.”

Rhys gritted his teeth and hugged Jack’s neck, sinking his nails on his back – on his beloved ribs – and moved his hips roughly, wanting to rip something apart as his senses were flooded with nothing but pleasure for a few seconds.

Jack was quick to lose the other’s grip on his neck before his head decided to pop out and roll across the room. It wouldn’t be hot at all.

He looked at the other and smiled to notice the pure state of bliss he was. Jack laughed and lied down again, moving his hands on the other’s thighs. He felt good for giving such a delicious thing for the other to feel. The glassy eye and drooled chin made a picture good enough to help him reach his own climax.

Rhys started to lift himself from his lap and Jack would ask if the doll didn’t want to suck him off or give him a hand, but he said nothing as his mouth fell a gap. Rhys held his cock lined up with his entrance and a mischievous smile appeared on those pretty lips as he sank on his lap, engulfing his cock in one go. One dry and tight go.

Rhys frowned and fisted his hands on the couch, throwing his head back as a guttural pained moan left his throat. He looked down and put a hand near his pubes, taking deep breaths.

“Love me roughly, my King.” He breathed and Jack didn’t have time to react as the other moved his hips up and down in a stuttered motion.

The King put his lips together, finding ground on the doll’s hips, scratching near the seams as the tightness of his body made his head spin. Rhys had the pain in the back of his mind, only caring about the faces his King was making and the moans that left his tinted lips. The volume inside him was kind uncomfortable, but he could feel the shaft throbbing and pulsating as he rode it.

Jack wasn’t paying much attention to what his hands were doing as he tried to focus on how tight the other was. The coldness of his muscles did nothing to lessen his arousal as he could feel the orgasm building up inside him. His fingers marked the other’s ass, helping him ride his dick.

“I’m…!” he moaned between gritted teeth, opening his eyes to see Rhys too close and a sharpening pain following the hit of the orgasm. The brunette bit Jack’s lower lip with enough force to draw blood. The King fisted his hair and pulled him back in a swift movement as he moaned from pain and pleasure.

Rhys was smiling and biting his lips with a pained, but aroused expression. The doll was horny even though there were pain involved and Jack sunk his fingers on his hair as he came inside the cold body, letting his head fall back on the cushions. He thrusted up, having a difficult time to do it properly because of the other’s dryness. He emptied himself and moaned satisfyingly, making small circles on the other’s hip.

He opened his eyes in a slow way, meeting the brunette towering over him. A kiss, small and chaste, was left on his split lip as the tight embrace of cold muscles left his dick to the sound of a pained sighed. Jack touched Rhys’ nape and the doll smiled; dazed eye and the ghost of another kiss leaving Jack with shaking fingers.

Rhys got up and stood in front of Jack. Bare bluish chest with the big Y in it; its tail fusing with the seam that hold together hips and torso. Dark pubes hiding where Jack was inside seconds before and the long legs that made the man look disproportionally perfect.

Jack looked down at the bare thighs in front of him and saw the sperm leaking between them. He looked at Rhys’ face and the messy strands framed it, a smile on his lips, the eye-patch almost out of place and lazy hands closing his shirt. He blinked – or winked? – And the rain sounded heavier.

The brunette walked to near the fireplace with mismatched eyes watching him. Jack’s breaths were still shallow as Rhys stopped in front of the fire, the room feeling hotter than before. The King tore his gaze from the Doll just to look at the painting on the wall, seeming to have moved for a moment.

Rhys got down on his knees and Jack looked back at him again. Long fingers reaching inside the black plastic bag near the fireplace that only now Jack noticed was there, and what Rhys took from there made every hair on his body stand up and his groin twitch.

Between long fingers, resting on his palms, were Tassiter’s severed head. Dislocated jaw making his mouth stay open, blood splatter on his neck and cheeks and eyes fixed on nothing. Rhys’ thumb passed on the blue lips of the corpse, pulled the jaw down, letting it go, and chuckled because of the sound it made when snapped back in place. Before Jack could say anything, the head was thrown among the black wood.

Jack didn’t know what to say in regards of the scene happening before his eyes. That was nothing like the Rhys he met the night before. Maybe the beating changed something in his brain, turning him on the glass-eyed bizarre beauty in front of him. The King was brought back to reality by the humming of a song.

Rhys poked at Tassiter’s head with the poker and hummed something in a low tune; the deep voice felt like velvet. The smell of burning meat started to fill the air.

Jack blinked and put one hand on his face, taking a deep breath. He didn’t understand how the other changed so drastically. He could still feel the pressure of his weight on his thighs and the burning sensation on his lip from the bite, but he did not feel comfortable. Jack knew something eerie was building up around him and his plans to take Christmas Town. The brunette was a pawn to eliminate one of his enemies, but now he seemed more important to the plot than before, not so manipulative. He decided on getting up and straightened his clothes, pulling his fly up. He walked to Rhys and crouched, touching his chin and making him look at him.

“Bring me an ice cube and towel.” He pointed to his split lip and the doll raised his eyebrows, “And if you make me tea… I’ll stay till the storm goes away.” He whispered even though he didn’t mean to “And don’t forget to redo your neck sewing, pumpkin. It’s too lose.”

Rhys nodded and, before he got up, held Jack’s hand, kissing his palm lovingly. Jack got up, watching the other get dressed and comb his hair back with his fingers. The eye-patch going back to place as he turned back to Jack and smiled.

“Nightshade or Belladonna?” his hands in front of his stomach.

Jack smiled back.

“Nightshade, pumpkin.”

Rhys nodded again and walked out of the room, leaving Jack alone inside that warm sex-reeked space. The King’s smile faltered and he looked at the black bag beside his feet.

Rhys not only killed Tassiter and Hugo, but also mutilated both and was using them as firewood. Jack crouched again and looked inside the bag, getting glimpses of hands and pieces of flesh; he chuckled.

“Rhysie, Rhysie…” he could feel lust building up inside him again, making him dick twitch. He looked at Tassiter’s half burned head and reached amongst the flames, grabbing it by the hair and brought it close to his face “Your Doll, Harold, is mine now. Your everything… Is mine now.” He finished by spitting on the corpse’s face and throwing back the head into the flames, seeing ember rise from the ashes.

 

 

Smart eyes scanned the gates of the town while they opened so the car could go through. The rain hitting the roof of the car and making the woman inside turn up the corners of her lips. Rain was essential for experiments.

The car stopped in front of the prefecture and the back door opened. High-heeled boots stepped in the wet pavement and the woman looked up, holding the opened umbrella.

Patricia’s big eyes analysed the lamps on each side of the building’s door. The yellow almost orange glow that wasn’t the best, but showed enough. She already knew that the town held some sort of secret for her to discover.

She climbed each step with calmness.

“You can let the car here. I’ll just talk to the mayor. Go eat something warm.” Her voiced made every word drip with gentleness coated with sarcasm.

She opened the door and entered. Dripping umbrella by her side and each step echoing in the room as she approached the lady behind a table. She was writing with her left hand, going along with her index on the text from another book. Patricia blinked a few times and knocked on the table, getting the lady’s attention.

She was young, black buttons for eyes, sewed in to the skin, and a permanent smile held in place by wires in each cheek.

“May I help you?” her voice was anything but happy, as her smile would suggest.

“I’m Patricia Tannis. I’m here to see the mayor.” She put the wet umbrella on the table and the secretary looked her with raised eyebrows “It’s just a bit of water! You’re not made of paper, are you?” she chuckled “More of a rag doll, right?” she moved her gloved fingers and smiled “What’s your name, by the way? Not that I care, I’ll forget in a minute, but I was raised to be polite, so…”

Button eyes focused on her as the lady got up and sighed – which sounded more as a huff because of her smile.

“Coraline. I’ll say that you’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted the smut to go out really weird and kind disgusting bc i wanted some kind of eroguro, but it came out like that so yeah. It's my first smut in english so i'm sorry if anything is grammatically weird or any position is wrong  
> I'm already writing chapter 10 and it will come quickier than this one!  
> Tannis appeared and another reference!!  
> I live for references  
> Hope you guys liked it!!  
> See you in the next chapter!!


	10. Play With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came quicker and it was easier to write, but AAAHH!! so many things will happen!!  
> Hope you guys like this chapters and how I wrote Tannis!!

Patricia entered the room with her green eyes scanning every corner. The big aquarium against one of the walls, wide windows behind the mahogany desk in the middle of the room, some archive drawers and a shelf with worn out red books on the other side of the room. Framed pictures littered the right wall, but Patricia didn’t waste much time looking at them.

“Dr. Tannis! It’s such a pleasure to meet you! I’m the Meriff, but, please, call me Huxter.” His voice full of glee as he got up from the chair.

“I’m going to do no such thing as it would make you think I’m giving in to your flirtation, but I appreciate the thought of trying to get us closer than just a professional partnership.” She smiled, moving her hand in a dismissive manner and giggled.

The Meriff’s head turned around and the frown took place, fidgeting with his bolo tie.

“Well… Please, have a sit. Let’s talk business then.” He pointed to the leather chair in front of the table. She sat and crossed her legs “It _is_ a pleasure to have you here in Halloween Town. When you called saying how you’d like to work with us to the next Halloween, we could barely believe it!” his head spinned again, smiling with nervousness.

“Your festivities are really known around here! When Halloween comes, there’s nothing else people talk about! So, I thought about participating! I’m sure my brilliant mind can bring more attention to this festivity! And even though I don’t completely agree with what your ‘ _King’_ does,” she used her fingers as quotation marks “I still find him really endearing!”

“Well, Jack really is extraordinary in what he does.” He smiled, leaning on the table “But, I’m afraid, this year we won’t be making any Halloween event.” He looked at her with sorry eyes.

“What do you mean?” she blinked a few times, turning her head slightly to the side “You guys are _Halloween Town_.” She scoffed.

“Jack went to a… Town nearby and got some ideas of what to do instead of Halloween.”

Patricia passed her tongue over her lips and rested her hands on her crossed knees.

“Well” she pouted for a second and looked at the Meriff again. She went to Halloween Town just to help on the preparations for the event, but with the news that the town wouldn’t be making any Halloween festivities, she didn’t see a purpose to stay there any longer. But before she could say anything, the Meriff got up, catching her attention.

“Why don’t you go to the hotel and rest a bit? I’m sure you must be tired from the trip.” He smiled and she put a hand over her chest.

“I don’t get tired from things like that, but, well!” she got up and put the chair back in place and started to walk to the door, but stopped “Oh! I’d like to visit Tassiter’s laboratory after the rain stops. It’s one of the best around here and I’d like to see it before going back home. Thank you!” she waved and walked out of the office, closing the door behind her. Her heels echoing on the hallway.

The Meriff sighed and put his hands on his face, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

One of the most brilliant scientist offered her services to help them in the main event of the city and Jack had decided to raid a nearby town. For what? To boost his ego with how much power he has over the townspeople and because he was bored? Changing tradition out of boredom!

He couldn’t believe they would let something like that escape right between their fingers!

Huxter put a hand on his forehead after his head turned around and got up, feeling the beginning of a headache. He walked to the phone attached on the wall and put it on his ear, dialling Jack’s house number, given he was one of the few people who had a phone at home. It ringed a couple of times before someone answered.

“Jack? Here is the Meriff. Are you still with that idea of going to Christmas Town?” he asked in a melancholic voice.

“This is Timothy, not Jack. And he’s still up with that.”

“Can I talk to him? Patricia Tannis is in town and she wants to work with Jack so much!” he started to whimper, “We cannot lose her partnership, Timothy! It could be the greatest Halloween our town ever had! Let me talk to Jack, please!”

“He’s not at home.” Timothy answered after a few seconds “He’s at Tassiter. Left early.”

“At Tassiter?” suddenly a silver of joy passed through the Meriff’s body and his head turned again, showing a bright smile. Maybe Jack had decided on go on with Halloween and went to Tassiter to talk about the blueprints they had “Thank you for the information, Timothy! I’ll call Tassiter’s phone then! Thank you! Have a good day!”

He hang up and dialled the other number.

“Hello.” A deep voice answered, but it wasn’t Tassiter’s as the old man’s voice was hoarse and it wasn’t Hugo’s either. Huxter frowned.

“Is it… Tassiter’s house?”

“Yes, Meriff. It is. You’re talking to him.”

Huxter put a hand on his forehead, frowning more. His headache worsening.

“No, no. I’ve spoken to Tassiter thousands of times and you’re not him!” he accused and a thunder echoed, making his skin crawl.

“You must be talking about Harold Tassiter. He passed away last night.” The man spoke with calmness “But I am Tassiter. I’m Rhys Tassiter, Meriff, so you must speak to me about any issues involving the name Tassiter from now on.”

The phone almost fell from his hands as the words sank deeper in his brain. Tassiter had passed away? There were no notifications from the funerary and it was almost noon. If Harold had passed away during the night there should be preparations already, but he received nothing. He didn’t receive a call, asking to book the Hall or to announce that the scientist have died so they all could mourn together for a day, as it was tradition. His chest felt tight and he adjusted the bolo tie once again.

He remembered that name. He remembered that voice.

“What was the cause of death, if I may ask?” cold sweat started to roll on his nape.

The yellow leather.

“Reckoning.” He stated, “Do you want anything more, Meriff? I have the King over and I don’t want to leave him waiting.”

The line stayed silent for a while.

The Meriff had his hand over his mouth, trying not to hyperventilate against the speaker. His headache was becoming a migraine and his chest felt warm, while his face was cold. With a dry mouth and closed eyes, he almost whispered.

“Let me talk to the King, please.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Huxter could hear the static in the line as he waited for the King to pick up. Another thunder followed by a strike of light had the Meriff turning around to look at the windows. The sky was dark and the rain sounded angry.

“Hey, Meriff.” His heart beat faster with Jack’s voice on the line. His throat felt clogged.

“Jack! Did you know that Tassiter passed away?!”

“His boy gave me the news this morning. I passed by to see if he could lend the lab and, surprise!, no Tassiter!” he chuckled “But you called to talk about old men in wooden suits or what? I’m busy!”

"I...  I called to know if... if you're still planning on robbing Christmas Town. You see, our town has a really special guest right now and she came all the way from home to help us with Halloween. Can't we just let that Christmas plan to next year, Jack?" His voice waved and he knew that if he was standing in front of the skeleton he would have a couple of marks around his neck plus a gun to his head.

"Wait wait. You're telling me, the King, to just stop with the biggest idea this town have ever seen in _years_ because some nameless persona wants to be part of it?"

“Sh-she isn’t a nameless persona, Jack! She’s Dr. Patricia Tannis! She’s the one responsible for the archaeological sites some miles from here and the amazing technology applied to lobotomy surgeries, Jack! This is a chance of a lifetime!”

“When you say archaeological sites, you mean the tombs where they found that weird purple stuff and a lot of people died while trying to do the research?”

“Yes!” he beamed.

“Yeah… That was kinda cool. I mean, the photos of exploded eyes and the viscera throw around were really cool to see! I’m pretty sure they dug an old ancient cemetery, but that’s just me!” he laughed and Huxter became more anxious.

“What I’m saying, Jack… Give her a chance. She’s brilliant and maybe we could get some ideas for the next Halloween if you really plan on carry on with the christmas robbery. She’s at the Hotel, but wants to go see Tassiter’s lab as soon as the rain stops. Talk to her then, please.”

“Well, I don’t plan on staying here all day, buuuut I may have… Some talk to do with the young Tassiter.” The Meriff felt more uncomfortable all of a sudden and looked at his own feet “I’ll call back when I’ve had the talk with her.”

“Thank you, Jack.” He sighed and closed his eyes, searching for his handkerchief in his back pocket “Thank you.”

“What kind of King would I be if not to make my peasants happy?” he chuckled and the line went dead.

Huxter put the speaker back in place and put the handkerchief against his forehead, feeling lightheaded.

This plan to rob the other town was beginning to look irresponsible. Huxter felt as if Jack didn’t think about the consequences of what he was doing. He didn’t share his plans and didn’t explain what he wanted to gain from that.

Huxter walked to the window and looked to the horizon. He could feel something bad coming.

 

 

The rain stopped a while after noon.

Timothy called to Tassiter household and talked to Jack about the contract they had to deliver to Purple Kids. Jack screamed on the phone, saying they didn’t have the right to demand anything, but Timothy remembered Jack that they had a service Jack couldn’t do by himself, so he would have to attend their demands.

They hang up after Jack told the ghost to meet him at Tassiter’s so they could write it together.

Rhys offered a piece of the pumpkin pie he had made some days prior in the week and Jack accepted, praising the Doll because of his cooking skills. The Doll’s eye almost turned heart-shaped as he sat by Jack’s side, watching him eat and listening to whatever he wanted to talk.

He would think about the events of that morning and could swear his heart was beating. The King, someone so important to the whole town, gave him the attention he would only reserve to lovers and made Rhys know what true pleasure really was. He never wanted Jack to leave him.

 When he went to grab another piece of pie to Jack, the man came behind him, holding his hips and trailing kisses along his neck. Rhys held onto the table, relishing the moment, closing his eyes as Jack pressed his chest on his back.

Rhys stayed on his tiptoes as Jack’s hand travelled down his pants to massage his clitoris, whispering soothing words, holding his waist with his other hand. The Doll came with a muffled moan, biting on his lower lip.

“I really didn’t want to see this.”

Both men let out a surprised gasp as they turned around to see Timothy by the kitchen’s door. His hands over his face and back turned to them. Jack let out a barking laugh and his canines showed in a way that made Rhys’ knees weak.

“No one told you to be all stealthy, baby.” He gave Rhys’ hip a weak tap and walked to Timothy, passing through him and walking to the bathroom “I reckon that you guys already know each other, so no introductions needed, right?” his voice echoed from the second floor.

Rhys finished closing his fly and looked at Timothy, walking to him. His hands in front of his body as he stood tall by the ghost. Tim turned around and looked at the other, smiling shyly.

“Would you like pie?” Rhys offered.

“I don’t eat.”

Rhys smiled comprehensively “I understand you.”

When Jack came back to the kitchen, Rhys fetched some papers for the duo to write the contract. The Doll resumed on cleaning the kitchen as Jack ate the rest of the pie and wrote the demands, rules and everything else about the job. Rhys felt his chest warm and could not hold back the smile that spread on his face, pulling the seams, while he watched they both start to argue.

“Jack, you can’t write _those bastards_ every time you refer to them! They have names!”

“I’m calling them bastards and it’s going to be like this!”

“You’re lucky I can’t grip things or I would be the one writing this damn thing!”

“Well, at least now I know why your grip on reality is so faltering! They’re the reason I wear this mask, remember?!”

Rhys looked up from the dishes when he heard that and Timothy was looking at him. Jack had his eyes on the half-filled paper, tapping the pen against the wood. Jack seemed to noticed what he said and looked at Rhys.

“You know, pumpkin, now that this whole place is yours, you have to change the colours ‘round here. Make it look more like you.” He waved the pen a bit, trying to make a point and Rhys nodded, looking back at the sink and putting that information in the back of his mind. If Jack would pretend as if he’d said nothing, then so be it.

“I was thinking about that. Harold had some savings that would come in handy some time from here.” He dried his hands in a grey cloth “Too many bad memories need to be erased.”

Jack nodded and passed his tongue over his teeth, cleaning them from the pie. Timothy had his hands on his lap, eyes going between the other men in the room. He could feel they had secrets in the same way Timothy had with Jack.

The doorbell rang and Jack went back to reading the contract. Timothy followed Rhys with his eyes, as the Doll adjusted the eyepatch on his face and exited the kitchen.

He opened the door with gentleness.

“Yes?”

A woman stood on the doormat with a big smile on her red lips.

“I’m Dr. Patricia Tannis!” she offered her hand and Rhys looked at it with strangeness before shaking it “I’m just passing by the town and would like to meet Dr. Tassiter! Are you he? I thought you’d be older. Really older.” She giggled “And shorter.”

Rhys blinked a few times and let go of her hand, clearing his throat after a while.

“I’m afraid… You’re late. Dr. Tassiter passed away last night.” He put his hands together in front of his body as Tannis’ smile quivered “But I can still show you his laboratory if you’d like.” He tried a welcoming smile.

Tannis sighed and crossed her arms.

“Well… I would like a little tour. Might turn this fiasco of a trip into something pleasant, right?”

Rhys gave her way so she could enter and closed the door.

“Please wait here just for a moment.” He asked and went to the kitchen again.

Jack was writing as Timothy dictated. Rhys smiled fondly and put a hand on his chest.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ll be gone just for a moment. Doctor Patricia Tannis is here and I’ll show her the laboratory. It’ll be quick, I presume.”

Jack looked at Rhys and put a hand over his mouth, swallowing the rest of the pie.

“Tell her, I’ll be with you guys as soon as I finish writing this. I need to talk to her.”

Rhys nodded and went back to the living room, showing her the ramp to the second floor.

“The King is here and he’ll join us soon.” Rhys announced and could clearly see a sparkle in her eyes that brought back the wide smile from moments ago.

“Ah! Great! Amazing news!” she giggled again, putting her hands over her mouth and climbed the ramp, being followed by Rhys.

The "tour" seemed to quench any scientific thirst the doctor had. She looked at every metal table, lever and panel as if they were made of the rarest material. Thin fingers longing for the feeling of touching one of the generators.

“What were you to him? Assistant?” she glanced at Rhys, but went back to reading the sides of the books on the shelf in the far corner.

Rhys gave her a tight smile and tipped his head to the side.

“You can say that. Now that he passed, I don’t plan on continuing any of his experiments, so I’m afraid the lab will be closed in a few days.” He explained and Tannis turned to him quickly.

“You can’t close this place! It’s the biggest laboratory around here! Your town must need it for something!”

“We need it indeed.”

Both looked at the door and there was Jack, looking at them with a sly smile.

“We would need this lab fully functioning so we could do the research on some materials we need, but… I had a better idea.” He walked to them and put his hands together in front of this body “Dr. Tannis, our Town is made of murderers, thieves, monsters… _Scum_ if you must summarize it.” He chuckled and Patricia frowned “What I’m saying is, we have men power, but we’re low in technology. Our only scientist died last night and we have a spot… Vacant.”

Rhys put his hands on his own elbows, looking at Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“You see, I have a big – when I say big I mean gigantic – plan for this town. By tomorrow morning, I’ll have a group of specialists taking care of some, uh, things for me, but… To get to the goal I want, I need more weapons. And if I’m being honest, Halloween Town weapons are shit. We need more, we need better ones and we need it quickly.” He smiled, walking around both “And you have this awesome lab given by our _amazing_ Mr. Tassiter.” He looked at Rhys and put a hand on his arm, squeezing slightly.

Tannis kept looking at Jack, listening to what he said. She didn’t want to work for some meaningless whatever plan Jack had in mind, but she couldn’t know if she would have the same opportunity to work in such an amazing laboratory as she was now. She could feel, inside her guts and chest, that something bad was going to happen if she took the chance, but she didn’t had a choice.

“So what do you say, Dr. Tannis? Do you want to be part of history?” he smiled and offered her his hand.

She looked into his mismatched eyes, analysing the weird-looking mask and the pointy teeth painted on it. When she shook his hand, she could feel goosebumps going down her spine.

“It will be my pleasure, Pumpkin King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Handsome Rhys im so sorry ç_ç  
> I like this fic a lot, but omg i just want to finish writing it!! So many things will happen!!  
> I think I put some ref somewhere here but i dont remember if i really did, i think it was last chapter idk lmao  
> Well... It's a bit messy and not so cute, but if you guys want to ask anything or talk to me about blands or just ask "why do you take so long to write wtf" you can talk to me here: barasweethearts.tumblr.com !!  
> ps: my tumblr is messy and not cute! you guys are awesome and totally cute


	11. Why Do I Pray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was really fun writing this chapter!!  
> i put a dialogue i've been thinking about since i started this fic and my friend laughed a lot because of it! hope you guys will find it as funny as we did!

Purple Kids received the contract by sundown. The candles lightning the directions and demands about the mission as FireHawk read everything aloud. Timothy, sided by one of the messenger-zombies-boys of the town, offered her an apologetic smile as she stated that Jack referred to them as bastards a few times in the document.

After waiting for the trio to decide if they would take the job, they handed back the contract to the zombie with the three names signed at the end of the paper. Timothy thanked them and went away with the zombie by him.

FireHawk stood by the window, watching the Ghost try to engage in a conversation with the zombie as they climbed the hill to go back to the village. The other two went to the weapon room to polish and prepare whatever they needed in the trip the next morning.

She walked to the wide pipe they used to send food to Purple and gave three well-spaced knocks on the wooden door, stepping to the side. After a few seconds, the pipes shook slightly and a purple glowing stone was thrown from it, landing on the carpet.

She walked to it and grabbed it, analysing. The stone was big as her hand so she would have to wait for the others to go to sleep so she could break it into smaller pieces so they would fit into the hole in her necklace.

FireHawk stood in the middle of the living room; eyes focused on the purple glow the rock had. She could feel the way it made her skin itch and sweat, mouth dry for the sensation of being filled with saliva after a wave of pleasure and raw power go through her veins, muscles, nerves.

“Lil, where is that buzz axe we found in a cottage a miles from here?”

Her eyes moved to the side, but she stood still, almost paralyzed. Her golden eyes were dry for she wasn’t blinking. How long has she stood there, immersed in her own hunger for power?

“Lil?” footsteps.

She gave two long strides to the couch and hid the stone inside her bag that was there. She turned to the direction of the door when Reaver stepped into the room.

“What you’re doing there?” he asked.

Lilith chuckled and moved her hands in a dismissive way, walking past him to the weapon’s room.

“Slab put it in the bathtub, remember? He was cleaning the blood out of it.”

She joined them on the preparations, but her mind kept going back to the glowing stone in the other room.

 

 

That night, after talking with Tannis for the projects she could work at the lab and showing her some of Harold’s notes, she left with some books and new ideas to show the townspeople the next day.

Rhys tidied the kitchen, not being able to stop himself from smiling. In two days, his life had turned upside down and he was the owner of the house he was in and of the Tassiter name. He was his own person and he could only thank Jack for helping him with that.

While washing the dishes, he thought about the words exchanged in the office upstairs, the touches and the pleasure. He would never forget about that.

He went upstairs and entered the office, feeling the warmth of the fireplace engulfing his body. He grabbed one of the various books on the shelves and sat in a chair, starting to read. Rhys was halfway through the first chapter when the doorbell rang. He frowned, thinking that maybe it was Tannis whom forgot something or even Jack who wanted God knows what.

He went to the front door and opened it, seeing a messenger-zombie-boy and tilted his head, looking at the package in his hands. He was handed the package together with a paper that read:

_Rhys,_

_I hope you can begin your redecoration with this simple gift._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Jack & Tim_

_PS: Tim made me write like that._

Rhys chuckled and thanked the messenger, closing the door. He went back to the office and put the package on the table, kneeling besides it and opened the box.

Inside, were a small tree with thin branches and fragile green leaves. The Christmas ornaments glistened against the fireplace light. Rhys took it out of the box and smiled, watching the star on top of it glow. He wanted to see it better, so he took off his eyepatch, showing a beautiful golden iris.

The night before, he decided on changing his own figure and, for that, he decided on taking out the eye that Tassiter praised so much. He would touch his face and say how charming the blue eye was, how it made Rhys look prettier. Rhys hated every and each time he said those words to him, wanting to make himself look hideous so the scientist would never look at him again or call him pretty.

So Rhys went to the laboratory and, with a cloth between his teeth and two – or three, he doesn’t remember – injections of morphine on his eye socket, he scooped his eyeball from his face.

With shaky hands and a dizzy mind, he retrieved the golden eyeball from one of Tassiter’s body parts cabinet and replaced his blue eye.

There was no blood. No regret. Just a painful headache that lasted all night as he pressed a bag of ice on his face and thought about nothing.

He couldn’t see from that eye, per se, but he saw no problem with that. He used the eyepatch and no one needed to know what happened to his eye. But he felt the need to take off the accessory to see the tree.

Rhys was engulfed with the pureness and brightness of the small object when his golden eye itched and he blinked, scratching slightly on the left eyelid. The itch persisted and he continued to scratch, pressing his palm to his eye and rubbed over and over again until it stopped and he opened his eye.

For a single moment, he could see from his golden eye. He saw the room bleeding with colour and the fire seemed to be burning brighter when a white gleam caught his eyes.

He looked at the small tree and saw its branches grow thicker and the ornaments get brighter. He frowned as it started to spin slowly, showing each side of it.

It was beautiful. The warmth and glow that reached Rhys' face hugged his dead heart and he thought that, maybe, Christmas could be brought to Halloween Town and be celebrated with those beautiful colours. He saw a future in there.

And, suddenly, there was fire.

The star on top glowed too bright and engulfed the whole tree on an angry fire that turned it to black ashes on top of the table. Rhys observed with his hands near his face, wanting to block his eyes from that horrendous view, wanting not to believe what just happened and what that could mean.

He got up to call Jack and tell him about the vision (was that a vision? Was he hallucinating?), but his head ached so hard, his vision blackened for a few seconds, sending him to the ground. His golden eye pounded and hurt, pulling something inside his eye socket, giving him a sharp pain behind his eyeball.

He fainted from pain.

 

 

The next day, the whole town was cramped in the Town Hall, excited to be, each, assigned some work to help the King with the new project that would benefit the whole town.

Jack gave space for Tannis to talk with the others, explaining – in a very sarcastic and cynic way – what and how she would give weapons and technology to take over the nearby village. Everyone listened, amazed by her words and the possibility of carnage so close to being a reality.

Rhys was sitting beside Timothy, listening to the explanation and watching as she scribbled on the blackboard in front of everyone. The fast handwriting almost unreadable if you got lost in the middle of her speech, distracted by the quick drawings and arrows leading to deadly ammunition and elemental effects.

The Doll woke up on the floor, head pounding and left eye burning. He laid on the floor for a while, not opening his eyes, but heard the siren and the Meriff’s voice echoing on the streets, summoning everyone to the Town Hall.

When he got there, Jack was already on the stage alongside Tannis. He would have to wait to talk to him. Timothy sat by his side after a while, saying he didn’t want to stay too close to the stage so Jack wouldn’t call him to go up there.

“Okay! Form a line here so the lady can give each of you something to do!” Jack pointed to where the queue should be formed and stood by Tannis’ side as she gave everyone a piece of paper with the instructions.

Rhys didn’t know if he was needed in the queue, but stayed in it anyway. His headache still going, but lighter. He needed to talk to Jack about what happened the night before. His turn was coming and he could see Jack’s face light up when they locked eyes. Rhys gave him a small smile of acknowledgment and Jack grabbed his shoulder when his turn came.

“Rhys! The guy I needed!” he pulled him closer and to the back of the stage, “I have a special job for you!”

“Jack, I have to talk to you about the gift you sent me last night.” His voiced sounded just like his old self; afraid, lost.

“Oh! Did you like it?” he smiled, stopping near a small table with some red paper and small boxes on it. He looked at Rhys with bright eyes “Of course you liked it! So, you’ll have one of the most important jobs!”

“Jack, please listen to me. I had a vision last night!” he held his hands together “I-I think it was a vision… I-I don’t know, but… I saw fire and ashes and… And…”

“Splendid!! I’m gonna burn that town, Rhysie! That’s what I’m talking about!” he smiled wide and reached for a picture on the table, showing it to the Doll “Look, don’t get too excited.” He chuckled “See this?” he pointed to a photo of him holding a pumpkin “I want you to do this.” He put a paper over it, showing a drawing of Jack in the same position, but with another clothes.

Rhys looked at the drawing and almost begged.

“Jack, this is a mistake.”

The King looked at him for a moment, blinking in what seemed shock, but then smiled, pushing the photo onto the other’s chest.

“C’mon now, Rhysie. Don’t be silly. I know what you can do with a needle.” He waved his finger and chuckled, stepping inside the doll’s personal space “There’s no one else in all Halloween Town who could do this job as well as you, baby. Don’t disappoint me now.” He smirked and touched his chin “I’m counting on you.” And then walked back onto the stage.

Rhys looked at his back and then at the drawing, flipping the page many times, looking at the differences between each picture.

“This is a mistake, Jack…”

 

 

The main park was filled with tables and tools to work on each weapon. Bullets that could corrode, electrocute or incinerate were being made with the help of each villager. Jack walked among them, monitoring their work as Timothy read the instructions to some people, helping them with the steps.

“You’re all doing really well!” Jack exclaimed, but stopped near the melting man, looking at the tool that was stuck in his melting palm. He frowned and grabbed the screwdriver, pulling it away from him and made a disgusted face “You need gloves, man. Disgusting.” He looked around “Go get you some rubber gloves and go back to work!”

Everyone seemed happy to be participating in the King’s grand plan to the town. The Meriff looked a bit uneasy with the preparations, seeing the bullets being put together and the barrels being polished. Jack looked around, looking for anything else for him to do, instead of going to talk to the Meriff.

He knew the other would want to talk about Tassiter’s death, but he didn’t want to waste his time with useless conversations that would lead to nothing but annoyance. Or a bullet in the Meriff’s head, so he went home, passing through alleyways.

Timothy would be pissed when he discovered that Jack left him alone with the others.

 

The next days were difficult. Tannis helped with the blueprints and special weaponry that Jack asked, staying locked in the lab for hours on end. Rhys was a bit worried, taking trays of food to her and being thanked with nothing, but a door closed on his face. He didn’t mind, noticing how her genius worked since the first time they met.

The Doll, himself, stayed locked in his old room, sewing together the new uniform Jack asked. A red suit with thin white stripes and a white coat with fur inside to keep him warm.

From his window, he could see Jack’s mansion and sometimes he would catch himself looking at the mansion with nothing in mind, but the King. While sewing, Rhys thought about the way Jack would look in a suit that he did; in a suit in which the white bones and black tattoos would make it look like Jack was holy.

When the suit was ready, 22 days to the Main Event, Jack went to Rhys’ house to try it on. The shade of red bled into the air, giving the skeleton the murderous aura he deserved, being certain that all eyes would be on him and nowhere else. But even though Rhys was happy with it, he dreaded the whole thing.

The vision would always come back to his mind and the Purple Kids were out there, hunting Santa Claus, ready to bring him to Jack, but what would happen if they just decided to not follow the contract and end Jack for once and for all?

He didn’t notice how his face showed what he was thinking until Jack was in front of him, raised eyebrow and curiosity in his eyes. Rhys looked down, not being able to meet his eyes.

“Hey, pumpkin. You did a great work.” His hands came to Rhys’ waist “I knew I’ve made the right choice when I chose you.” He smirked and leaned in, kissing his lips.

Rhys closed his eyes, wanting to talk about his worries, his fears over Jack in that raid of his, but he swallowed it all down when their lips met. The other wouldn’t listen to him trying to stop his new plan, trying to put some sense in his head. The burned gift were long gone among the ashes in the fireplace, never brought up again in their talks, in their meetings, in their intimate encounters.

So he let it be. He let Jack smile and laugh beside him in bed, telling him stories when he was younger and naïve. He let Jack touch him and tell him he was beautiful and perfect and special. He let Jack try the clothes he would sew and cooked for him when he visited. He let Jack rant about the Purple Kids.

“They came to me with a fucking pink bunny, saying it was Santa Claus! They were SO lucky Timothy was there or I would’ve shot them! I had to draw what a fucking tree is, Rhys!”

He let Jack be.

His anguish and fears locked away inside his non-beating heart. His ghost tears coming after Jack had left and Tannis was locked in the lab – she practically lived there. He would plead to the night and the wind how he wanted that nothing happened to Jack. But the day had come and Jack was standing in front of the new formed militia, wearing the red suit and white coat, booming voice calling everyone’s attention to the task, to the objective, to the purpose they were all gathered there.

“I want every house searched, every riches stolen and every. Villager. Dead!” he raised his own gun in the air “Are you ready for the party, Halloween Town?!” he screamed and everyone yelled back in enthusiasm.

Rhys looked over the other, seeing smiles and gleaming eyes, the excitement clear in each horrendous face. Even Timothy looked happy and Rhys knew what the Ghost really thought about that entire ruckus.

While the others were loading the guns and getting ready, Timothy noticed how Jack fidget in place.

“Is everything, okay, Jack? The clothes are itching?” he whispered and Jack reached down, adjusting the front of his pants. Timothy blushed and frowned “Jack?!” he looked around to see if anyone had noticed that.

“It’s just…” he crossed his arms and sighed, “I have a rash.” He whispered back.

Timothy’s eyes widened and he looked down then up again until realization came to him. He put a hand on his face and gave a wary sigh.

“You know why you have that rash? In there of all places?” he looked back at Jack and the skeleton looked away, adjusting his coat “It’s because you’ve been having sex with Rhys.” He stated and put a hand over his mouth, whispering “And you know what Rhys is made of? Dead bodies!” he said between teeth “You’ve been fucking a dead body and you know that! Now stop squirming!”

Jack rolled his eyes and adjusted his pants once again, making Timothy throw his head back in annoyance.

He looked at him again, just to meet the widest smile anyone in that town had ever seen. With his eyes locked somewhere behind the crowd, Jack got off the set up stage and walked through the people, opening his arms when he finished going pass them.

“So?! Did you get him?”

FireHawk was sitting on top of the big black bag with small pumpkin drawn on it. She rolled her eyes and slid to the ground, crossing her arms.

“We got the right one this time. He sure is big.” Reaver said as he stepped away, looking at the bathtub that was having trouble carrying such big cargo.

“And heavy!” Slab announced and pulled the string from the bag, opening it and a fat man dressed in red appeared. His long white beard had candies stuck on it and his hat hid half his face.

“Santa Claus in person!” Jack put his hands on his waist and looked for Timothy, seeing him passing through the crowd “See, Tim? I didn’t say it wrong.” He chuckled and looked at the man again “His hands are so small.”

Santa Claus pulled his hands to his hat and rearranged it on his head. His vision was blurry for a second until he could finally see where he was and who was talking to him. His eyes widened and he almost got back into the bag.

“Surprised, aren’t you?” Jack smirked and put a finger on Santa’s round nose “You don’t have to worry about Christmas this year. Or any other year.” He raised his arms and spinned “Today will be the day Christmas Town and its festivities die!” he looked back at the man “Consider it… Eternal vacations.” He smiled “Be sure he’s comfortable till I’m bac- Hold the dead horses!” he chuckled and snatched the hat from Santa “I don’t like to mess up my hair, but I think this occasion asks for it.” He put the hat on and turned his back, walking to the crowd that yelled in enthusiasm again.

Tannis walked to bag and the Purple Kids looked at her with curiosity.

“Hello! Santa Claus! I heard so much about you these past few days!” she grabbed his hand and shook it “I’m conflicted to say that, at first, I hated you for causing such a weird feeling on the King and making my trip to here seem irrelevant, but then I was given the chance to still work in  this town! Even if I have a bad feeling about all of this. I cannot stress how conflicted I am in regards to how I feel about you. Hope you have an amazing day or whatever they say when saying goodbye!” she smiled and turned back, walking near to Jack again.

The trio looked at each other and FireHawk lifted her eyebrows in exasperation before pushing the pink face back into the bag so Slab could tie the knot again.

They walked past the gate, stopping a few meters on the road.

“Where do we put him?” Reaver asked and FireHawk looked at the bag.

“To Oogie-Boogie of course. There’s nowhere else more comfortable.” She smirked and put her hands on her waist “And our employment with Jack is over. We’re free to do whatever we want with that.” She pointed to the bag and the other two nodded.

“You kids never heard of peace on Earth and goodwill toward men?” came the muffled words from inside the bag.

The three looked at each other and answered in unison.

“No!” they laughed, continuing to walk.

 

Rhys put a hand on his cheek, looking at Timothy as he watched the trio walk past the gate. He looked at the citizens and bit his lower lip in apprehension as he tried his best not to let the sinking feeling set into his chest. Maybe the vision was a good sign as Jack said that he planned to burn the town.

Maybe everything would be okay and he had nothing to worry.

He lifted his head and saw Tannis walking to him with a wide smile. Rhys smiled back even though his eyes didn’t follow suit.

“I’m glad to have worked in the lab these days. Would it be possible to rent it for me for the next few… I don’t know! Whenever I want, if possible!” she giggled, putting her hands near her mouth and Rhys nodded politely.

“I would be honoured to rent it to you, Dr. Tannis.”

“Great! I’ll pass by later today so we can discuss it while sitting. I hate talking business while standing! It’s hard on my knees.” She smiled and Rhys chuckled, waving at her as she walked away.

 

“See, Timothy? Everything will be fine. I have a hat now.” Jack pointed to the stolen hat and smirked, raising an eyebrow. Timothy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“The hat is not gonna protect you from being shot, Jack.” He frowned even if he thought that the other looked cute with that red hat.

“Do you think I can die from being shot?! Tim!” he laughed and held the sides of his face, pulling his head up until a small crack sound was heard. The skeleton smile widened and his hands held the bodiless head in one hand “I can’t die like that, Timothy! I’m dead by my mother’s side!” he laughed and Timothy looked away. He hated how Jack’s voice sounded high-pitched when he did that trick.

Jack put his head back on his neck and looked at the other again, smiling.

“Don’t need to be worried, pumpkin.”

Timothy sighed and tilted his head.

“Just promise you’ll be okay.”

Jack’s smile faltered and he took a deep breath, nodding to the Ghost. His voice almost a whisper.

“I’ll be back in one piece, Tim. I promise.” He looked at the Ghost and felt the need to touch his face, to pass him some reassurance, but both of them knew that would never be possible. So Jack looked to his side and saw Rhys standing near the fountain. He looked at Tim one last time and walked to the Doll, getting his attention.

“You’re ready to see your King coming back victorious?” Jack smiled “With riches never ever seen around here?” he held Rhys’ waist and the Doll gave him a small smile. Rhys seemed sad, but Jack thought it was the same thoughts as Timothy.

“You’ll do great, my King.” He answered and Jack leaned in, giving him a peck on the lips.

“For good luck.”

And, just like that, he got in the repainted jet and led the militia to the road. From near the gate, Timothy looked back at Rhys and he could see fear in those baby blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack is so sappy sometimes, but i like soft spoken Jack im sorry  
> in this chapter i wrote in a faster pacing than what i'm used to, but living is learning and we have to change somethings from time to time  
> If anyone here have already seen the movie, you guys know the end is coming!  
> What will happen to Santa Claus?!  
> Who or what is Oogie Boogie?!  
> Will Jack get rid of that rash?!  
> Stay tuned and have a great end of the week!!


	12. Pale Angel Go Away (Devil Has My Ear Today)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO BRING THIS TO YOU, GUYS  
> Im really embarrassed tbh so I'm just going to leave this here
> 
> ps: it was proofread but well things slip so im sorry for any error

In the meeting of the mountains, there was a tiny village with knee-level snow and shiny lights.

In the meeting of the mountains, there was a tiny village full of happy and peaceful people, that during all year, made toys to nice children around the globe.

In the meeting of the mountains, there was a tiny village.

In the meeting of the mountains, there was fire.

In the meeting of the mountains, there was blood.

The villagers were waiting for Santa Claus to appear when they heard singing coming from behind the snowy hills. The singing became louder as a black and red jet ski appeared on the top of the hill followed by a crowd. They could see torches and metal that gleamed against the winter moon.

The singing stopped and a man in a red suit could be spotted in the jet ski. The suit almost shining against the monochromatic crowd and the white snow. He raised one hand and his voice echoed down the valley.

“Tonight we feast!” his hand came down and the crowd howled, sending shivers down the little villagers as their pinkish faces went pale. Some backed away, urging the kids to go inside, to hide. Some were petrified, rooted to the same place, feeling tears coming to their eyes. All hope to be saved melting away as the grey crowd ran down the hill with metal shining in their hands.

The first bang that echoed, the first shot fired, went right between a woman’s big eyes. Her small body falling back after blood and brain matter splashed on the snow behind her.

They scattered, trying to hide from the gunshots and the fire, from the horrific faces and maniac laughs.

Jack’s minions set fire to the small bodies on the snow, shooting their heads, smashing their skulls with their heels and spraying blood on the white snow with a single movement of a descending machete.

They entered in every house, killing whoever was inside and filled the bags with the jewels and fancy clothes they found.

The small houses burned in front of Jack as he adjusted the hat on his head after parking the jet ski near the main gate.

“ _Silent night, holy night.”_ He sang almost in a whisper, getting his pistol from the holder on his thigh “ _All is mine, all is mine._ ” He aimed and shoot a villager that crossed his way. He hummed, feeling the heat increasing, as he got closer to the red mansion. The screams surrounding him as he took each step.

The smell of burning flesh filling his senses together with spilled blood. He heard someone screams being strangled and a small smiled appeared in his lips, as he got closer to the mahogany front door of the mansion. He stopped on the doorstep and pressed the doorbell, waiting.

“ _Blood rains from heaven afar. Heavenly hosts sing”_ the door opened hesitantly and an old lady appeared. Her tired eyes red from crying and cheeks wet. She should’ve been worried sick about what was going on. A quick glance to her trembling hand that hold her glasses, and Jack saw a golden ring around her fourth finger.

A wife.

Jack’s pistol touched her forehead and fear flooded her eyes “ _Jack is here to take all you hold dear._ ”

In the last second, he decided on just hit her forehead with the gun, making blood run down her hairline as she fell to the ground. He crouched and observed as her breathing became almost imperceptive.

He got up and walked in, not stepping on the laying body. He walked around the house, thinking how they would carry all those things – silverware, clothes, tapestry, jewels – back to Halloween Town. Maybe he could make that village send all its profit to Halloween Town, making them submit to the King, as they should.

Jack chuckled as he walked down a corridor. Timothy would flip his shit when Jack told him they ravished the whole place, killing everyone. The skeleton rolled his eyes as he opened a door that led to what looked like an office. Jack stepped inside and walked to the table, eyeing a thick book on top of it.

“Good.” He read the cover and flipped some pages, reading various names. So that was the book in which the old man wrote who would gain a good present or nothing at all. Jack remembered Timothy talking about something like that.

A record about all the children around the world that said if they were good enough to receive a gift at the end of the year or not. If you were nice during all year – obeyed your parents, did your duties, were nice to others – you would receive whatever you asked from Santa. If you misbehaved – cussed, hurt animals on purpose, lied – you would receive a sock full of coal.

He was about to leave it alone when something caught his eye. In the top right of the page, there was the name of a city. Jack frowned and passed a few pages, seeing that it changed. The letters was so small he could barely read it. Curiosity popped in his mind and he flipped through the pages, searching for their small town’s name to see if any of their children made into the book, even knowing they would never be considered good kids to someone like Santa Claus.

However, there it was. Right on top of the page was written _Halloween Town_ and a single name was in that list.

_Angel._

Jack felt his blood go cold as memories flooded his mind.

She was supposed to be dead. She was supposed to be fox and crows food. She was supposed to be nothing but bones by this time.

But there was her name. Her beautiful name. The name that haunted him when Timothy wasn’t by his side. The name that kept him awake before Timothy appeared in his life to soothe the pain from betrayal and loss. The name Jack thought was forgotten alongside dozens of other memories he wanted never to remember.

The name of his daughter.

“What have I done…” the words left his mouth without him noticing. He put a hand over his mouth and ran it to his forehead, letting the hat fall to the floor “How… What have I…” he was lost.

The office felt big, but at the same time claustrophobic. His hands were shaking as he walked back to the front door and stopped a few steps ahead of the entrance. His knees letting him fall to the snow as his eyes focused on the fire that consumed the enormous tree in the middle of the village.

The wind blew and the cold reached his bones even though he was wearing his new suit. It cut him deep into his chest and his vision blurred.

His daughter was alive. Alive in Halloween Town.

Tears ran down his mask as ashes and ember rose in the air.

He needed to talk to Santa Claus.

 

 

Santa opened his eyes to strange lights that bled into the darkness, hurting his eyes. Neon blue and red skulls littered the place alongside yellow bats dangling from green chains in the ceiling.

He heard a rattle and a double door to his left opened. From its darkness, two dices came jumping on his way and hit his face, falling beside him on the table he fell on. Santa kept his eyes locked on the darkness from inside that door, but nothing came out of it. Instead, a shadow covered his face and he looked to the other side, seeing a horrendous creature.

Its face – if that could be considered a face – was an elaborated mix of holes and white plates that seemed like a mask. The head wasn’t aligned with the body, being a few centimetres inclined back because of its long neck. The top of its head had the format of a priest’s hat; two white plates that came from behind its skull and encountered centimetres above the forehead (?) in a spear format.

Its torso was six white plates that fused in the middle, large chest and tiny waist, looking almost impossible to hold completely the weight of its upper body.

The abdomen was divided in two parts; the upper and the lower, both expanded. The upper part was round with a black line that divided its four plates. The lower was black with a small plaque in the middle. It had six long legs attached to it, three on each side, making the creature have a spider-like form.

Alongside its shoulder, abdomen and head, purple appendages laid against the armoured skin, giving a feather like appearance. The long skinny arms and needle-like nails completed the nightmarish form in front of him. The monster stood almost six feet tall above the ground.

 Santa felt his heart hurt from how much blood it was pumping and his breathing became erratic, his vision blurring.

A needle-nail came and touched his nose and a tsk sound echoed on the room.

“No go fainting on me now.”

How did that monster speak if it had no mouth? Its voice was soft and melodious, but deep and distant, like a dream. Like a nothingness in the dark.

“So you’re the one everyone is talking about. I thought you would be scarier.” It walked around him and his six feet tapped against the neon ground “You’re so small. So fragile.” Santa could swear he heard a chuckle “I might burst open my belly if I don’t die laughing first.”

Santa looked around and saw neon skeletons in instruments of torture. His skin begin to crawl and he trembled right from his core, almost seeing himself in that wheel; limbs stretching and the sound of bones breaking.

His body was thrown around the room, falling on top of bone piles, some poking his sides.

“Release me now, or you must face the dire consequences!” he screamed, trying to lose the rope around his wrists. Oogie Boogie grabbed the rope and pulled him back; rotating him in the same place, “The children wait for me!”

“You’re joking.” It chuckled again and the rattle came from inside its face. A small opening appeared in its face and a snake came out, biting Santa’s nose, to go back inside again “If you want a child, I have one for you.” Slim slots on the upper part of its face gleamed with a purple light and Santa assumed those were its eyes.

Oogie Boogie reached for a hook from the ceiling and put Santa’s roped wrists there, letting his body dangling. The elderly man watched as the needle-nails pierced the black line on its abdomen and the plates slid each to one side. A purple almost pinkish glow came from inside the monster’s belly and Santa’s eyes widened as he realized what was inside.

Inside Oogie Boogie’s was a small child. Her face showed that she was not distressed in any way, looking like she was sleeping. Her black hair loose against her shoulders and a white dress on her body. A thin membrane separating the outside world from her.

“I took his baby from the mother’s dead hands six years ago before disfiguring Jack’s face.” The monster spoke “He thought the baby was dead, but I took care of it and was waiting for her 16 birthday.” Its voice started to sound livid “But your little town ruined my plans. This baby was supposed to bring peace to this hellhole of a town. Angel was supposed to be our saviour!” It screamed and the bats flung away, shouting.

“Angel?” Santa couldn’t take his eyes away from the sleeping girl “That’s the little girl whom never asks for anything… She’s been a good child for six years in a row. I… There’s where she had been for all these years...” his eyes watered.

What did that monster mean with Angel being a saviour? She was just a child. Did Oogie Boogie want to make a cult with the little girl as its God? Santa looked away and a tear rolled down his cheek. The terrifying reality of that town finally sat down on his mind.

The plates closed and the monster tilted its neck to the side, looking like it was analysing the man in front of him.

“Don’t cry.” A needle-nail wiped the tear from his face “Dead men don’t cry.”

Santa didn’t even open his eyes. The sound of six feet tapping against the ground made his spine go cold and he just wanted everything to end. If they would kill him, that they’d rather do it quickly.

 

 

Rhys was in the cemetery, looking at the moon and listening to Timothy talking about his own insecurities regarding Jack. After the King went away, they walked to the cemetery and sat side by side, conversing about what worried them in that “mission” Jack had set up for himself.

“He was depressed, yaknow.” Timothy confessed in a whisper “He didn’t want to be King anymore.” He pointed to the path between the tombstones “We walked on there and into the woods as I listened to him. I thought he would cry.”

“I was there.” It was Rhys turn to confess and he looked at Timothy, seeing surprise in his baby blue eyes “I was hiding behind those.” He pointed to a large tombstone across them “And I heard how Jack felt and… Deep inside…” he put his hand on his chest and looked up, seeing the grey clouds “I understood Jack. I knew what he was feeling and how it is to… To feel nothing. It’s suffocating.”

Timothy kept looking at Rhys, wanting to touch his shoulder to pass some reassurance to the Doll. He would live his eternal live wanting to touch and never fulfilling his wish.

“I’m… I’m here for you too, Rhys.” He whispered and Rhys looked at him. The brown eye looked like it was made of glass and the Ghost leaned closer, laying his head against Rhys’ “As I am to Jack.”

The Doll got surprised as the Ghost leaned so close, but soon relaxed when those words reached his ears. He closed his eyes and smiled softly, whispering to the other.

“Thank you, Tim. I’m here for you too. Anytime.”

Suddenly, they heard a loud splash and turned their heads in that direction. Walking among the pumpkins there was Slab and Reaver looking to what seemed a smashed pumpkin. The taller one gave a tired sigh and got down, grabbing another one, holding it above an open bag in Reaver’s hands.

“Hold it right, man! We just lost one of the good ones!”

“You’re the one who missed the bag!” Reaver retorted.

“This is going to be the best gumbo I’ve ever made.” Slab smiled widely, looking around for another pumpkin “With the amount of meat we got from Oogie Boogie, we have good food for a whole month!” he chuckled.

Reaver stayed quiet for a moment while Slab crouched and took some nightshade that grew alongside the pumpkins. Rhys and Timothy observed from afar, having hid behind some tombstones so they could listen to the other’s conversation. They heard only silence, until Reaver spoke with an uncertain voice.

“Slab.” The other grunted, “Did you notice how FireHawk is acting weird?” his accent a bit thicker.

“What do you mean?”

“Since we went after Santa she’s… Acting really weird. She talks to herself and sometimes she goes into that trance, yaknow.” The other agreed and looked at Reaver “And her necklace…”

“I noticed that too.” Slab got up and threw the herbs into the bag, grabbing it from the other’s hands “Maybe it’s a siren thing? Her necklace was always purple, but… Not glowing like that.”

They went quiet for a while. Rhys looked from behind the tombstone and saw them walking in the direction of the woods.

“I think it’s because of that girl.” Reaver said and Slab glared at him, stopping on the path.

“We promised to never talk about that again, Reaver.” He growled and the smaller one gave a few steps back “We cannot broke this promise! It will bring chaos!”

“I know, I know.” He put his hands up “But… Hypothetically… If Jack knows that we have her…” he continued and Slab pulled him by his shirt, growling.

“One more word and I’ll smash your head with the pumpkin.” He threatened and Reaver turned his head to the side, closing his mouth. Slab let his shirt go and turned his back on his friend, walking to the woods.

Rhys looked at Timothy and they both shared a confused look. The Doll was the first one to speak.

“I’ll investigate.” Before Timothy could protest, Rhys rose his hand up “You took care of Jack for a long time now, Tim. It’s my turn.” He smiled and leaned in, trying to leave a kiss on his face. None of them saying a word on how Rhys face went right through Tim. The Doll got up and looked at Tim a last time, before going after the others.

“Be careful.”

 

 

Rhys followed them to the top of hill and hid behind a tree, watching as they entered the rusty cage and ascended to the top floor after pulling a lever. He got closer to the place and watched the fog (the ghosts?) circling the thick roots that held the crooked tree onto the black soil.

The Doll heard a muffled scream and squinted, trying to see into the fog. He got a glimpse of a neon blue light coming from a small window. He looked around, thinking of a way to go down there, when he noticed that the cage’s chain descended into the fog. He readied himself and jumped, holding onto it and looked up, praying no one would come out to use the cage. Then he started to climb it down.

When he got at the weight that held the cage up top, he used it to swing to the window and held tight on its edges. Rhys sat on the weight and looked through the window, feeling his eye hurt a bit with so much bleeding light. At first, he couldn’t see anything at all, but then a round silhouette came into view, followed by a deformed one.

Rhys felt his spine go cold as he counted six thin appendages – he thought those were appendages, what else could those be? What monstrosity was that? Was that Oogie Boogie?

He swallowed dry and looked around, trying to see a way to get in there. He sat better atop the weight and, tried to move to the side, so he could see, at least, one side of the structure, to find some way to get inside.

In his concentration, he didn’t noticed how much the chain rattled and swung; right in front of the kitchen’s window, where Lilith’s eyes were focused in a sort of trance.

“We have an intruder.” She said, not moving an inch “Slab, go get him. Bash his head open.”

Reaver was by the couch, feeding Bloodwing and looked at FireHawk. Her bright purple necklace looked alien against her thin neck that, now, was adorned with sick blackish veins coming out from her gills. He was worried about her.

“How you’re so sure, Lil?” Slab asked, putting down the wooden spoon.

“I can smell rotten flesh.” She whispered.

In an instant, Slab walked to the front door, opening up and stopped on the bridge that connected the house to the cage. FireHawk kept looking through the window as Slab pulled the lever and the chain started to move.

Rhys was planning on a way to open the small window when the chain made a rusty sound and he started to ascend on top of the weight. He looked up, in terror of being found, and saw an indent alongside the trunk. He waited until the right moment and reached for the indent, putting his hand as far inside as he could, letting go of the weight. He let his body meet the trunk with a bit of force, but took a deep breath, looking up again. The fog hindered his view of the bridge, so he focused again on trying to reach the window.

He didn’t know if they were just using the cage or if they noticed that someone was trying to get inside, so he decided on not waste the minimal time he had. He looked over to the window and extended his arm, reaching for the metal bars with his leather hand. He held it and used every bit of strength he had to sit on the window, putting his legs between the bars. He noticed how they were loose and fidget with one, pulling it out and dropping it into the abyss under him. He did it with three more and got in, trying to be silent.

He took off his shoes after noticing the metal floor and crouched. The room suddenly went dark. No neon lights, no silhouettes, nothing. He tried to adjust his vision to the darkness and stayed put, listening to whatever.

He heard rustling.

Feet against the metal floor.

When he decided to move, something crawled on his neck, flushing out the colour from his face. It brushed up on his neck, almost a phantom touch, a veil of thin emotions. His mouth was drier than usual and his neck was circled with a long hand.

“Well, well, well… What have we here…”

The voice was low and distant, crippling up Rhys’ spine, making his hairs stand up. He tried to look around, but it wasn’t necessary as the creature brought him close to its face. He didn’t see eyes, but gleaming purple slits in the darkness, near his face. The smell was horrendous.

“King’s little toy. We’re gonna have so much fun together.” the creature whispered and Rhys knew, in that moment, he was doomed in Oogie Boogie’s hands “You, me…” a snap echoed and the neon lights came back to life “And Santa.”

Rhys saw the poor old man hanging from a hook by his tied hands. The pinkish face had a purple and red bruise on his cheek. His red coat was torn in some places, his breathing well-spaced.

Rhys’ throat was dry and he didn’t feel the need to fight. He knew he would lose.

 

 

Jack walked through the fire, blood and screams with the old memories flooding his mind.

Around him, the vale burned bright and people howled because of how much they got from one small village between the mountains. He couldn’t care less about the blood sprayed on the snow or the small bodies littering the place.

He was looking for a graveyard, so he could go back home and question Santa Claus why his baby’s name was in that book if she had died so many years before.

Someone came near him, asking what they were supposed to do now and Jack took some seconds to look at the monster by his side. He doesn’t remember what he said to the other, but was almost sure it something about taking everything to Halloween Town.

He looked around, feeling the cold wind hit his face and walked a bit more to outside the village, climbing the hill that a month ago brought him to this bright and warm place. He turned around, glancing at the bloodied village and felt nothing. He did what he wanted, what he spent a month and some days plotting. But the feeling of accomplishment didn’t settle in his heart. He was feeling empty and the smell of blood did nothing to his heart. He put a hand on his chest and thought of Timothy and Rhys.

Was he fated to a joyless life, with nothing but nothingness inside him?

His chest tightened and he lowered his eyes to the snow, turning around. A few meters from him, was the graveyard. He walked to one of the mausoleums and opened the door, closing his eyes and breathing in the stale air.

He stepped into the darkness.

 

 

Timothy was worried about Rhys.

He knew it was dangerous just to try to get into Purple Kids’ den, so after Rhys started to go down the hill; he got up and followed him. He stayed in a safe distance, not letting the other feel his presence, just watching what would happen.

His breath hitched as Rhys decided to climb down the chain to descend into the fog. If he had a heart, it would be going up his throat! Suddenly, the chain started to move, showing that the brunette was swinging himself under there. Timothy knew he had to help when Slab appeared and pulled the lever, so the chain would go up.

Timothy put his hands on his head, feeling helplessness. What would he do?! He couldn’t touch anything, so he would be no help to Rhys! How would he call Jack to help them?!

He watched the chain lifting the weight, waiting for Rhys to appear so Slab could grab him and smash his head, as the violent creature the other was. But then, the weight at the end of the chain appeared and no sign of Rhys. Timothy felt his core cold and his eyes widened. Did the Doll fall into the abyss under the crooked tree? Where was Rhys?

He couldn’t do a single thing to help his new friend.

To help Jack.

Timothy sunk to his knees and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oogie Boogie finally appears!! I was going to end this chapter in a different way, but then I decided to push everything to the final chapter (that's the next!)  
> My descriptions are shitty so if anything could understand who oogie boogie is based on, kudos to you because you're amazing and can understand weird stuff that i write  
> Thank you guys so much for liking my fic!  
> See you in the next (final) chapter!!  
> ps: i'll try to not take so long to post it


	13. Paint Your Body Black and Build an Empire for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're finally here!! It's the last chapter and I hope you guys like it as much as I liked to write it!  
> This is a longass chapter, be prepared!  
> 8k and 15 pages long ma dudes

Timothy stood on the top of the hill; his eyes fixated on the crooked house. He watched as the moon started to appear more clearly as the sun got nearer to the horizon. No sound around the scene, no wind nor nothing; not even in his mind.

What would he do when Jack arrived and Rhys had being killed by the people he hated the most? And would the information about some little girl be valuable at all? He didn’t know what to do and how to do it.

Timothy didn’t know how long he had been in that same spot wondering what to do when, suddenly, he heard his name. Turning around slowly, as if something could attack him to do harm, his eyes widened when he saw the figure of Jack by the base of the hill. Tim let out a tightened sob and frowned in despair.

“Jack!!” he screamed and Jack came to his encounter, his hands reaching for the other and passing through his form, making him shiver in discomfort “Thank hells, you’re here! Rhys and I were by the pumpkin patch whe-” he sobbed and looked at the face so similar to his “When those bastards came and talked about some girl and Rhys wanted to look into it and now… Oh, Jack…” he brought his hands closer to his chest and shivered, sobbing more “I… I don’t know what to do…” he covered his face with his hands and cried more.

Jack remembered the first time he saw Timothy cry. His first Halloween was coming and Jack tried to convince him to go with him to the parade, to stand by his side, but the other looked uncomfortable and tried to dismiss the invitation as politely as he could. It had been his first month living with Jack and he wasn’t used to the idea of mutilated corpses and blood baths in public places yet.

Jack had none of that and yelled at him, called him useless and tried to grab his throat to complete the threat, but his hands went through him. Timothy felt fear fill his being and his eyes watered with sparkles. Jack fury was gone when he saw the little golden glitter coming out of baby blue eyes.

He never got used to the other’s tears.

He put his hands near Timothy’s shoulders and inhaled deeply.

“Stop crying.” He said softly, but sounded much like an order “I’m going inside.” The King raised his eyes to the crooked house and rage filled his mind “They have my daughter.”

Timothy lifted his head to look at Jack. The thought clicked in his head and he looked at the house again. So… The little girl he heard the others talk about was baby Angel? Timothy frowned and looked at the King.

“Jack.” He called, gaze fixated on the other’s mask “She’s dead, Jack.”

Jack had told him about his daughter. Blind eye unable of shedding a single tear as the other washed down the deformed face of the King as he told the story of how he lost his daughter and wife on the same day.

The idea of her being alive didn’t make sense.

“Her name was in the old man’s book. She is alive, Tim.” Mismatched eyes looked at him with mixed feelings boiling within “She is in there.”

The Ghost kept his eyes on Jack, not fully convinced about the idea that Jack’s daughter might be alive after so many years. He looked at the house and put his hands under his chin, sniffling.

“Oogie is there, Jack. What if…” he let the phrase get lost in the air, not courageous enough to finish.

Jack took a step back and opened his coat, letting it fall to the ground. Pristine white hitting the grey ground while red bled into the air from Jack’s suit. The red overcoat followed soon and he began to fold his white sleeves.

“I’m going inside. And I’m bringing Angel and Rhys out of there.” He cocked his gun and took off the red tie, letting it fall over the white coat. His eyes trained on the gun in his hands while he checked his bullets “And I’ll kill those motherfuckers.” He finished with the click of the cylinder.

Timothy held his breath and swallowed dry. If he had a heart, it would be tightened in anguish.

“Please, Jack.” He whispered and the skeleton turned his body to look at him “Don’t die.”

Jack could have joked as he did before going to Christmas Town, but, instead, he let the mask of King fall and stepped closer to Timothy, looking into his eyes.

“I promise.”

He turned around and walked down the hill, only stopping near the cage that led up to the house. He entered the cage, pulling the lever and growled when it got to the bridge in front of the house. Jack gave heavy steps towards the front door and kicked it open, startling the two in the kitchen. He raised his gun, pulling the hammer and his fangs appeared when he growled.

“Where is Santa?”

 

 

Rhys kept looking at the spider on the ceiling. Its web was full of small flies wrapped up to be the next meal.

He noticed that life was not linear. He was born and he was living, but it didn’t mean that events would not repeat themselves. There he was again, ropes around his body and laying on a metal bed, looking at a spider on the ceiling.

Maybe events tended to repeat themselves to signalize that something new would happen. But, for him, being dead wasn’t something new for he was dead before coming to life.

By his side, was Santa, right eye swollen and cut on his lower lip. Rhys’ own mouth was sew shut and his leather arm was ripped off. When the threads torn off, ripping flesh in the action, he thought that maybe physical feelings wasn’t that good to have. He closed his eyes and, while the overwhelming painful feeling of ghost tears still lingered on his eyes, he thought of the moments he had with Jack.

The way his fangs and purple gum showed when he smiled towards Timothy or told a bad joke. The mask that hid a grave robber turned into a mass murderer. Eyes that glowed when he talked about torture or looking at Rhys while they lied together on bed.

He thought of Timothy and his cute laugh. The way they exchanged glances when Jack told a bad joke. The few days they would read a book together and Rhys turned the pages.

A small smile tugged on the corner of his sewed lips and it hurt, but he let himself have that.

“I wonder” Echoed on the place, making Rhys open his eyes “how many times does it take to throw you both in the abyss.” Rhys turned his head, seeing the long fingers tracing the lever on the side of the metal bed “1, 2, 3.” it proceeded to pull it three times and the bed moved to a diagonal position.

“Maybe you’ll have some luck on your side.” Its feet tapped against the floor as the monster entered their vision camp. The thin hands meeting as it shook something between them and gasped in curiosity as it let the objects fall on a makeshift table by their side. Dices, each with the number one up.

“Snake eyes?!” it growled and punched the table, making the dices turn over. One showed six and the other showed five “Eleven!” it dragged the first e of the word and looked at their direction “It seems like you’re both out of luck.” It seemed to shrug and reached for the lever.

The monster pulled it three times, making Rhys and Santa slid a bit over the table. The hole in the centre of the room opened to under the house. Pitch black awaited, almost reaching for their feet through the opening. When it was to pull it a fourth time, the double-door opened in the back of the room.

Oogie Boogie turned its head and retreated his hands to near his torso. The swollen abdomen bounced as the six legs took him to the person standing by the door.

“FireHawk.” It said, paused. One thin finger touched her chin, making her look up “Why you’re here?”

“He’s here.” She didn’t blink. Her golden eyes glowing, surrounded by purple veins coming from her neck. Her skin almost translucent. She didn’t blink nor seemed to be breathing.

Rhys turned his head to look at FireHawk and he could feel his hairs standing up. Her necklace had a bright purple glow and the veins that trailed up her neck looked painful, but she didn’t show any sign of pain at all. She seemed in a hypnotized state.

He looked away and bit his own tongue, trying to open his sewed lips. Santa’s eyes opened lazily, as much as the bruises let him do it, and looked at Rhys. His small eyes shot wide as the sight of the young man came into view.

“What in… The monstrosities…” he whispered and Rhys looked at the others again. He couldn’t hear very well what they were talking, but he noticed how Oogie Boogie kept caressing his distended abdomen, reminding Rhys of a pregnant woman.

Suddenly he heard gunshot and looked up. What was happening up there?

He looked back at the other two and FireHawk had her eyes glued to the ceiling, as if she had finally snapped back from the trance. To no avail, her eyes lowered back to Oogie Boogie and it moved its head, sending her back to where she came from, closing the door behind her.

The monster seemed to have some control over the siren, making Rhys think at what extend that control went. He frowned, letting his mind wander over Jack’s story and his relationship with Purple’s Kids.

Has this monster always had control over the three?

The monster stood there, looking as if thinking about what was going to happen next. Santa breathed calmly by Rhys’ side and he saw the innocent old man whose face was bruised and bleeding. The hell Jack raised and Rhys tried to stop after his vision, but failed. He took a deep breath and thought about Tassiter and Hugo. He glanced in Purple’s direction and saw it walked to one of the makeshift tables he had around the room, back to Rhys and Santa.

Rhys looked down trying not to move too much or he would slide all the way to the pit under them. The bed wasn’t too diagonal, so he closed his eyes and rolled to the side in a single motion, putting his feet on the floor, kneeling in the process. He looked up and saw that Oogie Boogie still had his back to him, and walked crouched to behind an iron maiden in the corner of the room. He had to think fast.

Rhys looked around and tried to find a way to loosen the rope. He saw, in the other side of the wide room a double axe held by one of the various skeletons used as decoration. It looked too high for him to reach in some a small window of time, so he tried to find anything else that would do the job.

He could say they were in a torture dungeon, but not a single instrument of torture was on plain sight besides the iron maiden he was hiding behind. A thought crossed Rhys’ mind that maybe they were all hidden, and were, in fact, traps. That thought made him lay his head against the iron maiden, almost in defeat. If there were traps on that place, he had to be extra careful on walking around a place he had no idea where the trap triggers were.

Before he could do anything else, he heard a screech and something inside him tightened. Unconsciously, he tried to be as small as possible as the sound of rapid footsteps echoed.

“Where are you, you little shit?!” it screamed “You think you can hide from me? I’ll find you and rip off that other arm of yours!”

Rhys closed his eyes and squeezed himself more between iron maiden and the wall. What would he do?

 

 

“Don’t make me repeat myself! I’ll shot your fucking faces if no one answer me!”

Reaver had his fists balled up. His eyes downcast on his Bloodwing, lying dead on the floor, blood pouring out a bullet hole in its chest.

Slab had his hands up in surrender, looking at Jack with a mix of horror and wrath. He gave small steps backwards, sliding his feet not to make any sound. He glanced to shotgun hidden behind one of the low beams. If he could reach it without Jack seeing…

“I’m going to fucking kill YOU!” Reaver yelled and Jack rolled his eyes, shooting him on the throat. He tried to scream, but blood poured from his mouth as he fell back on the couch, holding his bleeding neck.

“Reaver!” Slab screamed.

“It’s like you don’t listen.” He pulled the hammer again and the chamber rolled “Next is your face.” He pointed the barrel to Slab and smiled in a mocking way “You think I wouldn’t see?” he moved the gun to the side “Sit beside your little friend.”

Slab lowered his arms and hushed to near Reaver, sitting beside him and put his hands over the wound. All of them knew it wasn’t worth it. Reaver would suffocate with how much blood was going to his lungs.

“Before I ask again, what I don’t like to do, but you guys seem to have a listening problem, I want to know where your bitchy friend is.”

Suddenly, a cracking sound came from the other room and a purple light shone bright. A cold wind passed through the kitchen, making everyone shiver. Jack felt a presence behind his back and turned around, meeting FireHawk’s golden eyes. Her skin was purplish and her hair stuck to her forehead as if she just ran a marathon.

“Heya, Handsome.”

Jack was launched back with the strength gathered in that punch. His back hit the wall on the other room and some weapons fell by his side, his own gun landing far away from him. He opened his eyes, feeling his back hurting and grabbed one of the axes that fell by his side. He cursed and looked around, seeing his gun lying near the door. He got up quickly and ran to it, seeing Slab on the other side of the kitchen already, gunshot being loaded.

Jack reached for his pistol and rolled to behind the wall, hearing the other shooting once. Scraps of wood falling by his leg as he tried to take cover as much as possible. He heard footsteps and crouched behind the bathtub. The footsteps got louder and he put the axe on the floor, holding his pistol with hands for a steady shot. Jack bit his tongue and put his arms on the edge of the bathtub, shooting almost blindly.

He cursed loudly and crouched again, holding the side of his head. He got the other’s thigh and Slab got his ear. It was a close one and Jack knew he had to do something not to end up dead by some minion’s hands. He swallowed dry and grabbed the axe with determination, thinking fast.

He lied down and watched the other’s feet shuffling in the same place. He wanted to laugh. Maybe he had hit the artery. There was a siren like sound in his left ear, but nothing that would get in the way of finally finishing off that troublemaker trio.

Jack waited as he saw Slab’s boots walk slowly to the right side of the bathtub. Jack crouched and turned around, walking to the other side. He didn’t know if FireHawk would come to where they were, so he had to be quick.

When Slab was near enough to the bathtub, Jack got up and raised the axe up his head, landing it straight on the meeting of the other’s neck and shoulder. The blood sprayed on Jack’s face and Slab pulled the trigger by impulse, breaking some small ceramic vases they had on the shelves. The blood kept gushing out, painting Jack’s arms, the floor and Slab himself in a deep red.

Jack let go of the axe as the heavy body fell to the ground and he reached for the gunshot, pulling it out of his reach. He rounded the bathtub and grabbed his pistol again, glancing to the door.

He knew Reaver was out of the game, but FireHawk was a whole other story. From what he could see in that fleeting moment, her skin was almost translucent, purple veins reaching her eyes, giving it a sick golden glow that was never there. Jack, for the first time in a long time, was afraid. He didn’t know what FireHawk was capable.

Jack looked at the chamber, checking how many bullets he had left – three – and when he looked up, there were those sick golden eyes. Feverish, hostile and static, looking at him, through him, invading his being and opening space between his brain and skull.

Her lips were chapped and her teeth yellowed. A thin trail of blood ran down her nose, countering her lips and dripping from her chin to the floor.

“Why won’t you die, Jack?” she whispered and Jack couldn’t answer. His tongue felt heavy inside his mouth, his throat clogged. She started to walk forward and Jack gave steps back “Everyone you love died. Why won’t you follow them?” she raised her arm and her fingers brushed his mask “Are you afraid of dying?”

How do you kill someone who’s already dead?

“Are you afraid of meeting her?” she whispered and, in a second, he was filled with rage. But before he could do anything, she pushed his chest and his body started to fall. He saw the necklace glow as he fell backwards and rolled down the stairs.

When he got to the end, his head was pounding and his right shoulder had a sharp pain any time he moved it an inch. Jack swallowed whatever came to his mouth and looked up, trying to locate himself.

He sat on his own feet and first registered neon lights. Second, he ignored those neon lights and concentrated on his shoulder, biting his own tongue and putting it back on place. His vision went double for a few seconds for he was not used to dislocating other parts of his body if not his neck/head. Third, he noticed the table with Santa lying on it.

Jack got up, staggered to the table, rounding it, and took hold of the other’s face.

“You.” He said as if the other, with the flickering conscious he had in the moment, would understand what he wanted “You know about Angel.” He finally said and Santa’s eyebrows shot up. He seemed taken aback.

“Yo-you’re… Her father…?” he said in disbelief.

“Where is she?!” Jack yelled and blood from his ear dripped on the other’s beard. He growled and took him out of the table, putting him on the ground “I need to know whe-“

He couldn’t finish his sentence as all the lights went off, leaving them in complete darkness. Jack’s hand didn’t leave Santa’s arms, being certain that he would still be there if the lights came back on.

They waited in silence, in darkness. Jack’s big hands squeezing the old man frail arms as his vision got used to the dark, even though he couldn’t make sense of anything. He squinted and saw something move from the corner of his eye, but then, on the other side, a white light appeared, getting his attention.

Jack’s eyes widened as the small body appeared in the middle of that darkness, like a saviour to his disgrace.

“Angel…” he whispered and got up. The last time he saw her, she would fit on his palms alone. She was so small back then, but there was no way he wouldn’t recognize his own blood and bones. He would recognize her even after decades had passed; he would recognize her with his eyes closed; he would recognize her in the end of world.

Her small body lying in that weird looking chamber. She looked as if she was sleeping, with her long black hair and white dress. Jack let a small tear run down his cheek as he noticed how much she resembled her mother. He tried to reach her, almost touching the membrane that separated them, but then it was gone.

Angel was not there anymore and the lights came back on, showing the white monster in front of Jack. The distant laughter echoed and Jack retreated his hand, growling and baring his fangs, reaching for his pistol, but to no avail. He looked behind him and saw it lying near where he had fallen. Near the pistol, FireHawk. Jack swallowed dry and looked back at Oogie Boogie.

“You son of a taint!” he balled his fists and the monster got up, putting his long fingers over his abdomen, walking around Jack “You had her all these years! Why?!”

“She wasn’t meant to be yours, Jack.” It began after walking to the siren “She is meant to be the saviour of this town. She is supposed to bring peace and end for once this shit show that is Halloween Town.”

Jack frowned slightly, looking at Purple.

“What… What do you mean?” his head still pounded.

“This town needs a purge.” It stated, “Angel, a hybrid of skeleton and siren, is meant to be our Executioner. She will grow up and, on her 16th birthday, she will bring heavenly fire over our heads, cleaning this place.”

Jack frowned more and tasted something sour on the back of this throat. His baby would fulfil a prophecy? His daughter would be an executioner of the scum that formed Halloween Town? He couldn’t comprehend a single thing that was being said to him.

Maybe he hit his head too hard.

“What. The fuck?” he squinted, but suddenly it all made sense. Wrath washed over him and his bones trembled “You… Killed my wife… Made me think that my daughter was dead… Because of a fucking false prophecy?! You did this to me” he ripped the mask off his face, showing the scarred skin “You fucking false prophet! Children swallower! I’m going to rip your head off!” his gum tingled as if his fangs got bigger. He wanted to scream his lungs out and rip out each of those limbs from the other’s body.

One needle-like finger stood up and the monster tsked in Jack’s direction, moving it in denial.

“You can’t defeat me, Jack.” The other hand touched FireHawk’s frail body, caressing her damped hair. She looked fragile; firm, but easily breakable. Jack saw something move behind them and tried his best not to show how surprised he was to see Rhys lurking against the wall not to be seen.

“You may have gotten the upper hand the last time, but this time I’m not letting you win, Oogie Boogie.” He growled and the monster chuckled.

“Oogie Boogie is a children’s fear. A parent’s fear is their children dying. Call me Opha Superior. Children’s reaper.” It claimed and Jack could swear he saw red.

He didn’t know what to do. His pistol was under their feet, the axe he had before was deep into Slab’s neck upstairs. Wanting or not, his only hope was the doll lurking around the place.

 

Rhys couldn’t exactly say what he was feeling. It was a mix of fear and arousal that he knew had no right to be taking over his body. Everything felt new to his new sensitive skin, so he was a fairly bit sure that arousal was not truly arousal.

Rhys was certain he would be discovered and those needle-like fingers would pierce through his skin, poking his organs open inside him. Before Jack arrived, Rhys could swear he felt the tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to fall if he blinked, even though he knew he couldn’t cry.

When Jack hit the ground, coming from above as if a god answering his prayers, he felt his core jump at the mere sight. He wanted to cry and let himself have a few seconds of relief wash over him for he thought he would never see the King again.

And then, came the reveal. Jack’s daughter was the girl he heard the other two talking about. A baby girl with skin fair as snow and hair black as the abyss. She was beautiful and Rhys felt himself enticed to go near the monster just so he could stay closer to her. He was going to come out of his hiding place to walk towards the girl, when the lights turned on again and the vision of the girl disappeared. His sewed mouth felt dry. He almost walked towards death.

Maybe Jack didn’t know the power of his own blood.

That pull he felt when looking at the girl could be compared to the same pull he felt towards Jack. It wasn’t just admiration or devotion; it was something deeper and complex that he could feel in the core of his non-beating heart. Was Jack’s wife just like that? A force that pulled everything towards them as if they were existence’s own axis?

He swallowed and walked out of his hiding place when he noticed Opha and FireHawk’s backs to him. He had to get to the double axe and free himself from that rope.

He was almost there, but he only remembered the trap triggers when his weight made a tile move down. The sound of levers and cogs turning made everyone look at him as a circle saw came from the ceiling in his direction. He yelped and got down, trying to escape certain death, and got lucky, as the saw cut the rope.

Rhys looked down and then up, rolling to the side and taking the rest of the rope off him.

“Get him!” he heard the distant voice and looked at them, seeing FireHawk necklace glow brighter. He frowned for a moment, noticing how the veins around her eyes seemed to thicken, but got up in a second, running in the other direction. He tried to free his mouth while running, not knowing to where exactly.

Rhys dodged the double axe as he passed by it and looked behind him, not seeing her. He bumped into something and tried to yell, as she appeared right in front of him. His mouth burned where thread pierced skin and he wanted to cry again. Why couldn't he cry?!

“Rhys!” Jack yelled and started to walk towards them, but Opha stepped in front of him, pushing him back and he fell, rolling to the side and kneeled. He looked at Opha with his blue eye, feeling the white one burn inside the eye socket.

Opha’s chest plates opened from the middle to the opposite direction, as if its ribs were broken. It reached inside itself and pulled a medium metal wand, letting the plates go back in place. Opha rotated the wand between its fingers and, with a sharp motion to the right, the wand extended, growing in length with a piercing end that glowed neon pink thanks to the illumination.

Jack gulped. That thing had no organs, how would he weaken it if he had no weak points to hit? His eyes fell on Rhys trying to get away from FireHawk by crawling backwards. He couldn't think of anything as the shadow of a raised spear caught his attention.

He looked back at Opha and it held the spears with both hands, going in his direction.

Jack rolled to his side, getting up and ran to the other direction. The six feet tapped across the metal floor as it chased him, trying to pierce the slightest piece of flesh it could reach.

He had to think quickly to find anything that could be used as a weapon. He slid on the ground, going under a makeshift table as the spear reached near his chest. He dodged it a few times, getting small cuts from unlucky movements, but nothing lethal. In a swift move, he ran to the other side, rounding the table and racing to the middle of the room, near the pit.

He tested luck and stepped on a raised spider symbol on the floor; waiting for whatever trap that would function. The ground under him started to move, rotating as metal giant King cards appeared and started to rotate the knives on their hands.

Jack widened his eyes and dodged some knives, laying on the ground to escape them. He looked for Opha and saw it climbing over the cards, balancing its heavy body on thin legs.

“Come on, _King_!” It spat “I want to make a nice hole in that chest!”

Jack noticed it had trouble trying to pass the spear through the rotating blades; he started to crawl under them, getting his clothes cut in various small places as he tried to reach the side free from the monster. He looked back and saw the neon pink point ready to drill into his body.

The sound of the cogs stopped and the blades retreated as the cards descended to where they were. He looked to one of the skulls that decorated the place and ran to it, grabbing the spiked dagger in it and smashed the bones against the wall. He turned around, hearing the footsteps getting closer, and, almost blindly, hit the dagger against one of the legs of Opha, seeing it get a cut that made the monster yell.

He crouched and rolled to under its abdomen, almost being pierced by the spear and, in a firm movement, he cut off two of its legs, making the beast scream in pain as purplish goo fell to the ground.

Jack got away from under it and held the dagger with determination to kill finally that monstrosity, but didn’t know where to hit. In the seconds he faltered, the sound of working cogs echoed on the room and Jack looked behind him seeing FireHawk on top of Rhys, hands around his throat as she blocked his air pipe.

Suddenly, the circle saw came from the ceiling again and FireHawk only had time to look up as the blades punctured her skull, spraying blood everywhere and going through bone and grey matter. Rhys’ hand were stretched to the side, pushing the tile he had stepped before. FireHawk’s blood painted his face red and he let go of the tile to push the lifeless body off him.

Jack couldn’t help the small smile that came to his lips as he saw Rhys sit up and reach for his own mouth, pulling the threads away. The brunette looked at Jack and smiled, opening his mouth, but then a horror look took his features.

“Ja-”

But it was too late.

Jack looked down, seeing the neon pink spear assume a weird red. Did he feel the pain when it went through his body? He held the spear and looked at Rhys only last time before falling on his knees and finally on his side, lying on the ground.

“JACK! NO!”

Rhys throat felt dry as he called for the King repeatedly as he ran to the body on the ground. He grabbed the spear and pulled it out, bringing the wounded body to his lap as he hugged him as best as he could with only one arm.

“No, no… You can’t die. No... No…” he cried, pressing his hand on the wound.

This couldn’t be happening. Jack wasn’t supposed to die, he was the King of Halloween Town; he was the ruler of every horror in existence. He was Rhys’ saviour, Timothy’s soulmate. They couldn’t be left alone.

Jack couldn’t die.

“Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. This is the end of Skeleton Jack.” Opha provoked and touched its own belly “Angel is mine.”

“Angel will never be yours.” A voice came from above, making Rhys and Opha look up.

“Tim…?” Rhys whispered and the Ghost’s eyes were set on Jack’s body.

He balled his fists and float in Opha’s direction, seeing it give a few missteps backwards. Timothy growled and his body met Opha’s, disappearing. The monster looked at his own chest, touching it and looked around again.

“What happened?” it asked before his arms fell limp to its side “What… What is…? What is happening? I can’t feel my arms…,” the distant voice sounded confused. Suddenly a small crack were heard and Opha’s own voice echoed, “I’ll teach you to never mess with us.”

The thin hands reached for the head and held it firmly. First, a crack to the right then one to the left. One hand reached under the chin and pushed to one side as the other turned the head to the contrary with a swift motion and a sick crack echoed. The body fell limp on its abdomen, purplish liquid spilling from the gap between the plates and the head hanged in a sick angle as Timothy left the corpse and kneeled by Rhys and Jack.

“Jack…” Rhys’ eyebrows shot up as he saw the golden glitter fall from the ghost’s eyes “Don’t die. We need you here.” He begged in a whisper and Rhys relaxed, holding the King’s body in a better position on his lap.

Suddenly, a hand covered Rhys’ own on Jack’s chest and tried to touch Timothy’s cheek, startling both.

“I can’t die… I’m already dead… By my mother’s side.”

“Jack!” they yelled in unison and Rhys lied his head on the other’s shoulder, sobbing without dropping a single tear. Timothy let more golden tears fall as he put his hands on his face and joined Rhys on the sobbing.

Jack’s eyes were just a tiny bit open and he relaxed, feeling a deep sharp pain on his chest. It hurt like a bitch and he was certain one of his lungs was a goner. He tried to sit and Rhys helped him, giving his arm as a support point. Jack took a deep breath and moaned in pain, reaching for the hole in his chest.

“This is gonna be a bitch to heal.” he got up and Rhys draw a sharp breath.

“Jack, you should stay down! I’ll call for help!” he tried, but the skeleton didn’t listen as he staggered to the corpse. His breath was hitched as he stopped in front of the monster’s abdominal plates and kneeled. His hands reached for the small gap between those and pulled to opposite sides, getting to put his fingers inside as he pulled more.

His patience wasn’t at one of the best moments so he just ripped off one of the plates and put his arms inside. He let out a whimper as he fell back on his ass with the small girl on his arms. He touched her forehead, putting away her hair and caressed her chubby cheeks. He couldn’t help a chuckle that escaped as he saw the small pointy teeth. Baby sirens didn’t develop lips until the first year, but being a hybrid, Angel’s lips didn’t develop and her pointy teeth were out to the world to see.

“My Angel.” He traced the bridge of her small nose and frowned, not feeling air going out. He glanced at her chest, and then at her neck, touching the small gills “No. No. I’m not losing you again. No.” he began and lied her on the ground. His chest throbbed with pain, but he stayed firm as he applied pressure to her small chest a few times and then tilted her chin up, blowing air into her mouth.

Rhys watched apprehensive, his hand over his mouth. Jack tried again the same procedure and then stopped, looking around. Rhys frowned and lowered his hand to his chest.

“I’m fucking stupid!” he crawled back to near the corpse and seemed to consider something for two seconds before he filled his hands with the rest of the purplish liquid still inside Opha’s abdomen. Rhys watched in confused surprise as the skeleton filled his mouth with the liquid and started the same procedure as before on the little girl. But, this time, he spilled the liquid inside her mouth.

Timothy gasped by Rhys’ side and hushed to Jack’s side as the girl coughed and started to cry, taking her small hands to her neck and curled on herself, crying more. Jack gathered her up on his arms and sat back on the floor, hugging her tight against his chest.

Rhys crawled near to them and got a glimpse of small gills on her neck. She needed water flowing through those to breathe. He looked around and started to consider getting FireHawk’s necklace to Angel, but Jack got up with her on his arms; her crying turned into controlled sobs.

“She’ll be…” a whimper from another chest pain “Be fine for a while. Lets… Get out of here…” he held her with carefulness in his arms, nursing her.

“Jack.” Timothy called before he started to climb the stairs to the surface “What do we do with him?” he pointed to Santa that lay unconscious on the ground. Jack rolled his eyes and Timothy saw Angel’s big eyes looking at him with curiosity.

“I’ll sen- Let’s go! I have a fucking hole in my chest! I’ll take care of it!” he said between teeth and started to climb the stairs with caution, Timothy close behind.

Rhys followed, shortly after retrieving his leather arm and Jack’s mask.

 

 

“Jack! Thank Hell you’re okay!” the Meriff rushed inside the hospital room and stopped near the bed “Timothy told us everything! We already sent some people to take care of it!”

Jack put one hand on his forehead, feeling a headache building up. He had to thank Rhys again for fetching his mask when they left Opha’s den. Rhys was sitting on the bed opposite to his, being patched up by one werewolf nurse. Angel was in the nursery, a few rooms from theirs.

“How’s Santa?” he looked to the Meriff and his head turned around, smiling.

“He’ll be sent back to Christmas Town as soon as he wakes up!”

“Great.” He sighed, “Remember to tell him that he answers to me now and that he has to be grateful I didn’t kill his wife.” He murmured and hummed in appreciation as he finally felt the morphine kick in.

After the Meriff bid them goodbye and the nurse finished patching up Rhys, they were left alone. Jack thought that maybe Timothy was with Angel and thanked him mentally for that. He looked at the brunette and gave him a teasing smile.

“Physical feeling is a bitch, am I right?” he chuckled and Rhys accompanied him, nodding.

“The good moments make the bad ones worth it.” He answered and Jack looked at him with soft eyes and a small smile on his lips. He motioned for him to come closer and Rhys obeyed, taking the morphine bag with him.

He lied by the King’s side, being careful to not mess with the IVs and not to lay too much of his weight on the other. Jack hugged Rhys as best as he could and leaned in, kissing his forehead, letting his fingers entangle on the brown locks. They could finally relax.

“Aw, I want to cuddle too.”

Both men looked to the door and Rhys chuckled at Timothy’s pouting. He would never get tired of the cuteness of the ghost.

“Sucks to be you, TimTams.” He chuckled and called him with his other hand, letting it extended. Tim smiled fondly and let his own hand pass through Jack’s one “Guess what, babe.” He began and Tim raised his eyebrows in a mute question “Imma give you a body.” He motioned to Rhys “I did that once, I can do it again. I’m King!” he laughed and the other two exchanged glances.

“I was thinking ginger. You’d be a cute redhead, Tim.” He teased and Timothy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“Maybe, then, I can carry Angel.” He shrugged and Jack looked at him. Rhys knew he would never get the same look that Jack gave Tim, but he was happy for the bond the two had.

“How’s she?” Jack asked almost in a whisper.

“They’ve put her in a tadpole-pool and are running some tests. She seems fine.” He smiled “They’ll give her a necklace once the tests are done and she’ll be ready to go home if everything’s alright.”

Rhys and Jack visibly relaxed with the news and Jack put a hand over his face. Rhys sat and smiled; the holes around his lips made his smiles look funny.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay, Jack. She’s your daughter.” He stated and Jack looked at him “And you’ll be a great father.”

The King looked at both men in front of him and sighed, letting his head rest on the pillow.

 

 

Rhys stopped at the front door and knocked twice, holding the bouquet against his chest, the white flowers contrasting with his black suit. He waited a few moments until the door opened and Jack’s face appeared with a wide smile, showing fangs and gum.

“Doll.” He let him enter and closed the door, putting one hand on Rhys’ waist and kissing his lips softly “Always punctual.” The brunette smiled.

“Lately, it’s the best part of my days, Jack. I wouldn’t like to miss even a second.” he offered the bouquet “For Angel. _Sanguinaria_ and _Kalmia_. I think she’ll like.” He pointed to each species. _Kalmia_ were the main flower, its white petals were bell formed with long white filaments coming from the middle and with a magenta circle inside. _Sanguinaria_ surrounded the main bouquet, giving it a pure look. The thin white petals and yellow short stems in the middle, combined with the other species, mixing their scents.

Tannis noticed Rhys’ liking of plants and indicated him one of the biologists that lived in a city some miles away. She gave him his number and said to look for Sir Hammerlock and that he would be able to grow his own arboretum if the odds were favourable given that Halloween Town soil didn’t look too fertile.

Jack took the flowers and nodded, walking with Rhys to the other room. When they entered, Rhys saw a man with a child in his arms near the window. The wild red hair tied in a loose braid over his shoulder.

“And that’s the pumpkin patch. Pumpkin patch. C’mon, you can do it.” He smiled and the girl tried her best, putting her small hands in front of her mouth.

“Tumkgin.” The lack of lips making it difficult.

“Pumpkin. P.” He explained and Angel looked troubled as her eyes landed on his lips. She rested her hands on her chubby cheeks.

She tried again, stuttered and stopped. The redhead sighed and kissed her forehead.

“You’ll do it, don’t worry, darling.” he smiled and landed some kisses on her cheek, making her laugh in the process. They needed to find someone that could teach her how to speak with that little impediment of hers.

“Angel.” Jack said in a singsong voice, getting her attention “Uncle Rhys is here and he brought you some flowers.” He approached both and her big eyes seemed bigger.

“Doll!” she stretched her arms and Jack laughed with the other man.

“I think she likes him more than you, Tim.” Timothy chuckled and walked to Rhys, giving him the girl.

“I saw those flowers and thought about you.” He held one of her small hands “They will protect you.” She listened with attention, not taking her eyes from him “I’ll teach you how to make tea from those. But only tea that hurt people, so don’t give it to your dad, ok?” she nodded and Rhys kissed her forehead, hugging her “That’s my girl.”

A week after the Angel Incident, they could leave the hospital. Jack still had trouble breathing, whimpering whenever he had to run or walk too fast. His hearing got worse and he was left with almost 50% of it on the ear he was shot.

Angel spent six years in a state of coma, so even being six years old she wasn’t good at talking or walking; her leg bones too fragile. She needed constant assistance of doctors, but Jack didn’t mind. He had his daughter back and that was all that mattered.

He got a provisory body for Timothy and talked to Tannis about plastic surgery to make the corpse he got to look like him. She laughed and waved her hands, not being able to help herself and said she wasn’t that kind of doctor but ended up on agreeing to find someone who could do it.

Rhys was part of the family now and Angel would only call him _doll._ He found it funny and cute, never correcting her to call him Rhys. He found funny – and a lot weird – how when he set foot on the Skeleton’s household it was if nothing more existed. He felt that, when the doors closed, Halloween Town didn’t exist and there were only Angel and Jack and Timothy in the whole vast world. He couldn’t comprehend and he was sure he didn’t want to.

“Are you all ready? Everything’s set.” The painter came near Timothy and Jack and gave them a smile that didn’t reach the eyes. They decided on getting a painting of them to hang on the main room of Jack’s house since he had people that he cared about and cherished. Not that he said that aloud. Tim and Rhys just guessed as he announced that while giving treats to Angel.

Tim didn’t like to have a mothperson as their painter, though. He never liked bugs, but couldn’t complain much given that they were the best of the region.

Rhys and Jack went to their places, holding Angel in their arms. Tim sat on a chair nearby and got out of the body, floating to the near Jack and Rhys, staying by Jack’s side. Angel had some trouble understanding that the redhead that held her in his arms were the same ghost that floated around the house from time to time. Timothy got a bit worried that she would end up not wanting him around because that may make her uncomfortable and Jack shrugged, saying that, eventually, she would get used to it.

Angel looked at the three man and laughed, putting her hands over her teeth. Rhys smiled and kissed her chubby hand, instructing her to stay still so they could have the painting done sooner.

Jack rolled his shoulders, still felling sore from the recovery, and adjusted Angel’s little black necklace, bubbly water flowing inside it. The doctors said that the oxygen levels needed to be high for the next few years, given that her lungs didn’t have the time to develop and her gills needed to get strong.

She would be fine.

“I can’t believe I have to stay still for hours during the next months.” Jack complained and Rhys chuckled, trying to stay still.

“You never shut up, do you?” Timothy rolled his eyes, looking back to the mothman that started to do the sketch.

“Did you say something, Tim? I can’t hear very well from that side.” He teased and Tim groaned, making Rhys chuckle again and the painter made a complaining noise.

They would all be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I finished a long fic! This is my first finished fanfic in, like, six years?? I was used to write one-shots and pwps, but we learn new things every day, right?  
> It was a long run until here and it was really fun to write this fic and I've grown a lot as a writer AKGHAKDFJGH  
> I want to thank so many people! The only that left kudos, that left comments, to timothysdrake (now prmptoargentum) that helped me with the first chapters and helped me shape the idea! If you're reading this, I'm really sorry I'm such a shitty writer and took so long to finish this, I hope to do things faster from now on!!  
> Thanks to my bff, sebby, who betaed a lot and pressed me to finish this.  
> I SAID I WAS GOING TO FINISH BEFORE HALLOWEEN I DIDNT SPECIFY WHICH ONE OK
> 
> And have  this pic  I drew to the painting, my drawing skills are shittier than my writing ones lmao  
> If you want to talk to me or ask anything about the fic or my other works or ask for some prompts, you can do that in the same twitter that I posted the pic!  
> Anyway, thank you all so much and I hope I see you all in the other fics I'm writing for the rhack tag!  
> Have a nice week!!


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